


Hands of Time

by Dazzledfirestar



Series: Hands of Time Verse [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Post Avengers (Movie), Sexual Content, Threesome - M/M/M, Time Travel, hints at torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2017-12-03 22:46:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 50,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dazzledfirestar/pseuds/Dazzledfirestar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saying you'd do anything to bring someone back and to make things right has an entirely different meaning when you've got SHIELD backing you up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The End

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the continuation of a tiny little comment fic I did called [Out of Time](http://archiveofourown.org/works/700848). The premise wouldn't let me go and kept building and growing on me until this first chapter started pouring out.
> 
> The starting point is immediately after the Avengers and diverges (likely) from canon from there.
> 
> Thank you to ladydeathfaerie for the quick beta. Also, the title of the book in this chapter is a play on _Marvel Comics - The Untold Story_ by Sean Howe. I thought it would be something Phil would read in his tiny little amount of spare time and being that Marvel was Timely Comics when Captain America was created, it seemed appropriate.

The definition of SHIELD’s best kept secret varied greatly depending on who you asked and what they were cleared to know. Those in the upper levels were often fond of the Phase Two weapons program as an answer if anyone who was cleared for that asked.

But the elite or a few of them anyway, knew the truth of the matter. SHIELD’s best kept secret had nothing to do with gods or monsters or weapons. It had to do with its Director, his right hand man and their—to those less inclined to be polite—pet archer.

There were rumors, of course. Even as the fires in New York started to burn out or be brought under control, there were rumors. Most were wise enough not to mention those to Director Fury or Agent Barton. Most were wise enough to give both men as much space as possible.

With Barton it was easy. There were enough fellow agents that could remember the cold blue glow of his eyes while they lost friends and more. One agent wondered why he’d been allowed back out loud. That agent was gifted with Deputy Director Hill staring him down and telling him to get back to the clean up duties he’d be assigned or she’d find something far less pleasant for him to do.

People stopped asking after that.

But Barton made it easy. He avoided nearly everyone unless he had something of value to report, a debriefing to go to or Agent Romanov made him interact. _Face them down._ She told him again and again. _The ones who won’t forgive you or don’t know what really happened don’t matter enough to worry about anyway._

He agreed with the logic. He found he had to. Those had been nearly the words he’d told her in her first few weeks with SHIELD. But feeling it… that was different. What he had wanted to do was go home. See what as left. Be somewhere he could let it all go without fear of anyone else seeing him.

What he wanted was to go home and be with Nick. To be able to grieve the way they were supposed to. They’d never get to do that at the funeral. SHIELD regulations, Ranger etiquette… everyone they knew that didn’t know. All of that would get in the way. Nick would pull that stiff upper lip shit and there was no way he could be comforting to Clint without letting that go. He got that, in fact, he knew he’d be doing the same thing.

He wanted to be at home with Nick. Instead he was at some random shawarma joint with Nat and four guys he didn’t really know. His body hurt, but eating was good. He hadn’t done nearly enough of that when he was brainwashed, or possessed or whatever the psych guys were going to call it.

Stark had insisted they all go, no arguments got through to him. Not even anything along the lines of _I should probably be in medical_ managed to make a dent. Nobody else seemed to be up for putting up a fight on his behalf, so he went.

Nat leaned over while Thor got a food of Midgard lesson from Banner—apparently they were going to try curry after the next fight. Clint was counting himself out of that immediately—and put one hand on his wrist. “He’ll be in meetings for hours yet. You’ll just be sitting at home alone and that’s a horrible idea right now.”

“I should be in medical.” He shook his head and wiped a little garlic sauce from the corner of his mouth. “I’d be catching royal hell right now if—“ He stopped talking but covered it by taking another bite of food.

“Clint…”

“Not here.” He nodded vaguely in the direction of Stark and Natasha got the hint. He ducked his head a little and went back to his shawarma wondering vaguely if SHIELD had a cleaning protocol for garlic and hot sauce mixed with alien DNA. He figured he’d find out but considering what could be in that particular protocol let him ignore the ache thinking about Phil had brought up.

He heard Nat whisper something to Captain fucking America—he couldn’t think of him as Steve. Not yet. Not when Phil should have been there, sitting beside him, freaking out about the fact that they were having dinner with his god damned hero—and the look she got in return spoke to him guessing or thinking he’d guessed more than he should. “Not now. Let it go.” That was all he made out of the conversation. Cap didn’t look at him. He figured he was being paranoid. After everything that had happened over the last few days, he was pretty sure he was entitled to it.

“So, I was thinking… and Cap’ll back me up on this.” Stark leaned back in his chair, looking at Clint and Natasha in turn, looking for some tick or tell or whatever would give him his beloved dirty little secrets. “What’s SHIELD going to do about that cellist?”

“Stark…”

“No, that kind of thing shouldn’t be buried too deep, right? That’s gotta be standard protocol or something. Are they going to track her down? Tell her some sanitized version of the whole ‘he died a hero’ speech?”

Clint’s hands tightened on the edge of the table. Breathing wasn’t helping but he had to keep it together. Just a little longer and he could go home and let it all go. He couldn’t let Stark of all people see this… this wasn’t his. It wasn’t any of their business. Any of them except maybe Nat, but she got it. She’d back him up.

“Fury’s not that big an asshole, right?”

Nat didn’t move fast enough or more likely didn’t want to. The fork embedded itself in the wall a few feet behind Stark. “Shut. The fuck. Up.”

“Whoa!” Stark’s eyes went wide as he looked from the fork to Clint and back and forth a few more times. “Okay! Fury’s not that big an asshole. I get it!”

“That’s not shutting the fuck up.” Clint growled the words out. “Are you physically incapable of minding your own fucking business or are you too fucking dense to take a hint?”

“Right, because we should let some poor girl wonder for the rest of her life what happened!”

“There is no girl, Stark!” When he stood up, his head spun and Nat had to catch him and get him back in his seat. He could hear the din of sudden and intense conversation around him but it took longer than it probably should have to focus in on what was being said.

“What did he mean there’s no girl?”

“Tony maybe now isn’t the time.”

“No, I want to know what he’s talking about.”

“Stark. Shut up!” Nat crouched in front of his chair. “You good?”

Clint didn’t risk nodding. “Yeah.”

“Are you sure you knocked all the Loki mojo out of him? Because that seemed—“

“Totally called for, you ass!” Nat turned to face Stark and he pushed his chair back from the table. “We’re going. He should have been in medical hours ago and he doesn’t need your questions right now.” She shook her head and took a deep breath before helping him slowly to his feet.

Clint waved her off when he was sure the room had stopped spinning. “There was no cellist. Just like if you asked Fury, there actually is no Euro-trash countess, and if you asked me, there’s no biologist. The cellist was a cover, Stark.” He felt tired to the core. He didn’t want to have to explain anything because he truly believed it wasn’t any of their business but the glint in Stark’s eye told him he wasn’t getting out until he had some kind of answer. “You don’t believe me? Do a little digging. You’ll find a credit card, cell phone and fake apartment under a fake name. That’s it.” He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to give an answer. He sighed and leaned more on Natasha.

She sighed and shook her head. “He has someone waiting for him. If they want to tell you, they will. Otherwise, it is none of your business.”

No one got in their way as she helped him toward the door. It said a lot, in his mind that he hadn’t noticed anyone move until he stumbled and Cap caught him. He must have looked worse than he thought. The adrenaline was long gone, and all he felt now was tired, nauseous and about ready to keel over. But the man smiled a little and braced him as they moved forward. They were outside when he finally spoke. “How long?”

Clint didn’t bother with denials. “Nick and Phil? 18 years. With me… it would have been six in August.”

Clint gave the guy credit for not flinching. He knew it must have been tough. Things probably hadn’t changed much on the private side of things but the fact that they were having this conversation on a—albeit totally wrecked—street corner… that had to take some adjusting to. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as he nodded. “Okay. Get going before Tony gets any other ideas. I’m sure…. I mean, I bet Fury will want to see you.”

“Right… yeah, the feeling’s pretty mutual.”

“Of course…” Awkward silence filled the space as Nat waved down one of the SHIELD transports to take them back to base. “Look, I’m sorry.”

Clint hated pity but somehow this didn’t feel the way he expected it to when people told him they were sorry for his—no, not just his, their—loss. Maybe it was because Rogers seemed like a genuinely good guy. Maybe it was because Clint finally brought himself to look at that poster perfect, if not a little dirty and bloody, face and not want to punch something. He couldn’t put his finger on it. When Nat wrapped a hand around his arm, he mirrored the nod Cap had given him early. “Yeah, thanks.”

“He was a good man.”

“Yeah. It would have made him really happy to hear you say that.” Clint felt a sad sense of pride that he got that sentence out without his voice breaking. He turned to get to the transport but stopped. “Tell Stark that… I don’t know. Make something up that will sound like an apology but will make sure he minds his own business for a few hours.”

Rogers chuckled a little. “Okay. I’ll do my best.”

Clint stopped again after a few shaky steps. “And if I… you know, if I don’t become a big social butterfly with you—or anybody—it’s not you. I mean… well, it is but—“

Rogers nodded. “Yeah, I get it. I’ve been there. I know the reminders are tough.” He waved a hand toward the shuttle. “Go before Natasha leaves without you.”

Clint turned without another word and let Natasha drag him up into the transport. He put his head back, beating back a small wave of nausea as the shuttle took off. He’d get home. See Nick… then he could let it go. For now, he just had to keep it together.

A hand rested on his knee for a moment. They were nearly alone so he didn’t call her on the look she was giving him. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll make it.” He let out a small mirthless laugh. “Next time, you don’t have to hit me twice though.”

She sat back, pulling her hand away and she smirked, shaking her head. “Just making sure.”

“Thanks.”

“Any time.”

~*~*~*~

He hadn’t felt that tired in years. In a moment of calm amid the storm, he tried to remember the last time he’d felt so bone tired. Laos maybe… Guyana? It’d been a long time either way. And then he’d had help. Support.

He’d had Phil there with him then.

Nick took a long, deep drink from the cold, hours-old cup of coffee by his elbow. He’d muscle through the last of the debriefings, make sure the reconstruction details were in order, and maybe get another cup of the god awful coffee someone had scraped together out of what was left of the staff room on this level. Then to medical to see if Clint had checked in yet.

That thought made his heart speed up in a way he didn’t want to admit to. Before Natasha had reported in he’d thought Loki had managed to take everything and everyone he cared about. He thought that was it. He’d be alone when all was said and done. One way or another. He took that feeling out on Rogers and Stark. He knew that but the thought that those men couldn’t pull it together; couldn’t show them all why they should have faith in heroes. It had made him angrier than he’d shown. 

Their lack of understanding cost him dearly. And to watch their baby—the work and the sweat and the thought and the creative story-telling he and Phil had put in together to make the Initiative work—to watch it all circle the drain with Phil’s blood still tacky on those god damned cards….

Nick took a deep breath and leaned back in the chair he’d managed to dig out from under the mess in his office. He’d never been more thankful that he didn’t really keep anything personal on board. There’d been a picture of him, Phil, Clint and a few other friends from a birthday a few years back. The frame was smashed, glass broken and the picture looked worse for wear but it was salvageable. It was a good thing too, he thought with a frown, since he’d never get another chance to take one like that.

He pushed back the first surge of something that was definitely not anger. He couldn’t let that through yet. There was too much to do. Too many people needed to know where to be and what to do and too many people in power wanted answers. He didn’t have time to do what he wanted. Not yet.

His hand drifted into the inside pocket of his coat and ran over the edge of the cards that still sat there. He couldn’t quite bring himself to put them in a drawer or somewhere else for now. He didn’t want to admit that he knew it was the only way left to have Phil there to back him up.

He should be down in medical, making sure Clint was alright. He should be there with him. He should be able to let all the pain behind the anger go with the only person on the planet that would understand. But none of those shoulds would make a difference when the politicians started calling. Let alone the council. He was so tempted to let Hill give that report. The first one at least. Then he’d get a few hours in relative peace with Clint.

He tried to push it all back again; the memory of Phil’s eyes going dead in front of him. The sudden weight of his head in Nick’s hand. The helplessness as the medics swarmed in. Knowing he’d have to pull it together and make it work; that the man he’d spent nearly twenty years with gave his life for something bigger and it was up to him to make sure it happened.

Anger wasn’t really helping anymore. He was willing to admit that. Nothing he had to do required that kind of energy. He couldn’t dwell on the things lurking just out of sight though. He knew that was going to lead him somewhere he didn’t want to go until he was home, with Clint in his arms and the door firmly locked behind them. 

For that moment though, he let himself stare at the broken picture frame and let his mind wander. He let himself remember twenty years back, terrified and sure he had just bought himself a dishonorable discharge when he pulled Phil around a corner and kissed him. He remembered the relief and the rush as Phil kissed him back; of coming home and finding the shittiest apartment they could find together. He remembered repeating the friends and roommates mantra every time they had to go somewhere together but they couldn’t _be_ together.

He let himself remember the warm feeling of knowing they’d found somewhere that worked when SHIELD recruited them both a few months later. How they’d gone home and spent the night fucking like crazy, not worrying about the fact that the blinds might have been open.

He couldn’t help but smile at the memory of Phil slowly coaxing an answer out of him that, yes, if they found the right person; if the balance was right and the attraction was there, he would be open to having a threesome.

And then they found him. And the slow push and pull started all over again. They were all subtle about it. The idea of messing up what was a good working relationship for all of them was a deterrent if anything ever was. But they flirted, and Clint flirted back. Nick teased him, and Clint gave as good as he got. After a particularly colorful attempt to get Phil to blush over the comm., Nick called it a safe bet.

Nothing would ever wipe the memory of watching the two of them kiss the first time from his mind. He had been surprised that there were no jealous twinges as he listened to the soft, needy little noises Clint had made and the low, warm hum that left Phil as he pulled back. The feeling of Clint’s lips on his as he pulled him close and pressed a demanding kiss on him; the feeling of Clint relaxing in his arms before Phil pulling on his sleeve and they headed toward their bedroom.

Waking up with both of them the next morning, with Clint between them, his head on Nick’s shoulder and Phil’s arm wrapped around them both, he’d known. In every corner of his self, he’d known it was going to work. The last six years had been the best of his life.

That thought alone shifted everything. Those six years with the two of them were over. They were going to have to figure out how to settle everything back in place with a giant gap in the middle. They’d never been just Nick and Clint. Phil had always been there. That wasn’t to say they didn’t work together. They did. Nick knew that the way he’d known the three of them would work together. But between what Loki had done to Clint and Phil…

He gave himself a moment alone in his office to let that sink in. He rested his head in his hands and for a moment, let the weight of it all sink in. He didn’t bother lifting his head when the knock on the door came. “It’s open.”

He wouldn’t admit to the irrational disappointment of seeing Hill in the doorway. He wouldn’t admit that for half a second he thought maybe… maybe he’d missed a report or a message and maybe…

“Sir, the council is requesting a report on our current status.” She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. 

“Understood.”

“Sir…” She hesitated. It was rare in Maria Hill and he knew that. “Sir, far be it for me to question why you’re still here—“

“But you’re going to do it anyway.”

“The last report from medical said that Agent Barton had just checked in. That was seven minutes ago.”

“Thank you, Agent Hill.”

He looked up in time to catch the slight purse of her lips. It was the only tell she’d let slide over the years. Phil had noticed it first. “Permission to speak, sir.”

“Granted.”

“I think you should go home. I think you and Agent Barton need some time. And frankly… fuck the council. They can wait.”

“Is that what you think?”

“Yes, sir. It is.”

Nick sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I’ll be honest with you, Hill. I’m inclined to agree. But we both know the council isn’t going to wait on this. And even if they would, the rest of the state won’t.”

“That would be the part where my previous ‘fuck them’ statement would apply, sir.”

Nick couldn’t help the small chuckle that left him. “Okay. You want to dodge and weave with them for awhile or are you going to give the report?”

“I am prepared to report to the council, sir.” She was back in perfect military form and he figured her speaking freely time was up.

He couldn’t quite resist though. “Bucking for my job again, Agent?”

“Not this week, sir.” A small smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.

“Alright. Report to the council; deflect any of the other government interests for as long as you can. Tell them the reconstruction plans are already in the works and they’ll have the reports when we have a clear idea of what is needed. If you can get Stark to plug up any holes he punched in our systems, that’s a bonus.” He nodded and slowly pushed back from his desk. He stopped, picking up the broken picture frame again. “Hill?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Thank you.”

For a moment she looked like she’d say something else but she nodded once and left him to gather up whatever was left to take with him and get to medical.

~*~*~*~*~

Clint hated medical. It had its benefits, sure. Getting rehydrated was a good thing obviously. He was aware of the logic as he laid there with a tube in his arm. But the longer he stayed there, the worse that sinking, horrified feeling in the pit of his stomach—not the one linked to the concussion but the less diagnosable, more all in his head one—got and the more he wanted to just go home.

Despite the private room, which he was pretty sure Natasha scared somebody into, he felt crowded. It was ridiculous and he knew it because it wasn’t the nurses and doctors and Natasha and other agents that were causing it. It was the knowledge that if he followed the right hallway, he’d hit the makeshift morgue they’d set up.

He figured he should be feeling a ton of guilt over how many fellow agents he probably put there. And he would. He knew how this kind of thing worked. When the flood gates opened, he’d crumble at least a little. But that wasn’t really where his mind was focused.

Phil was down there. The blood on his suit would probably have driven him nuts. He’d always been cool with it when it was someone else’s—Clint was willing to admit that it had been his a fair few times—but Phil never seemed to have much patience for his own injuries. Like he thought it made him sloppy or slow or something. No amount of talk from him or Nick ever managed to convince him otherwise.

As if summoned by his thoughts—Clint knew he wasn’t actually a telepath but he wouldn’t put it past Nick to keep that a secret—the door to the room opened and there he was. Clint couldn’t actually remember ever seeing Nick that open outside of their apartment. Their apartment… He swallowed hard. Right. It was just theirs now…

Nick sat down next to the bed. His hand settled over Clint’s and he couldn’t quite cover the surprised. “What about rule #1?”

“Fuck it.” Nick lifted his hand and pressed a kiss to it before reaching out to cup his cheek. He pulled back when Clint tensed.

“Not here… I… if you start comforting me here I don’t think I’ll be able to not fall apart so…”

“Okay.” His hand went back to Clint’s; holding on as if he thought Clint might disappear. That made sense to him. He kind of felt the same way about it all. Clint squeezed his hand back and tried to smile. He failed, he knew that but he tried. “The doctor’s going to come in and give us the run down in a couple minutes.”

“Right. Drink plenty of fluids, come back if the dizziness or nausea gets worse… the usual.”

“Yeah. Psych’s going to call when things settle down too.”

Clint fought back the urge to bitch and whine about that. He could almost hear the arguments Nick probably had ready and Phil would have been telling him already if… “Yeah, okay.”

“You aren’t going to fight me on that?”

“No. Not this time. Most of them are quacks though so…”

Nick managed half a smile. “I’ll make sure you get a good one.”

“Thanks.” Clint laid back again, his thumb moving absently against the inside of Nick’s wrist. “You know… with everything maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea if you—“

“I’ll go too. I think everybody’s going to have a lot of things to get out of their system about all this.” He sighed and pressed another kiss to Clint’s hand. “We’ll get through this… we’ll fix it.”

Clint shook his head a little. “Nick there’s no fixing this and we both know it. It’s done. It’s… it’s just us now.” If a tear snuck by him, he wasn’t going to think too hard on it. But he squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. “Not here…”

Before Nick could respond a soft knock and the immediate opening of the door announced the foretold doctor. Natasha was in on her heels with a mouthed ‘I tried’ to Nick. Obviously he’d told her to run interference for a little while. Apparently Dr. Yau was one of those rare breeds that SHIELD liked to recruit. He wondered vaguely if she would be able to intimidate Nick himself in the right situation.

She quickly checked the IV site on Clint’s hand before referring back to his chart. “I think we’ll be able to send you home tonight, Agent Barton. Assuming you won’t be alone.”

“He won’t be.”

She nodded once to Nick and listed off the things to keep an eye on, symptoms to watch for. “I’m sure you know all this already, of course.” She put the chart down at the end of the bed. “If anything odd comes up, I want you back here as soon as possible.” She leveled Clint with a look. “I won’t sugar coat this. We don’t know what the long term physical effects of whatever was done to you will be. So if anything at all seems out of the ordinary, I want to hear about it.”

Clint nodded quickly. Not quickly enough to send his head spinning again but enough to make sure she knew he was taking her seriously. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” She moved around the bed and hit a few buttons on the IV stand. “Let’s get that out and get you home then.” By the time she had the needle out and the site clean and band-aided properly, Clint was pretty sure she was the best doctor they had. As she moved toward the door to get the paperwork for his release done, she stopped and turned back, the same look from before targeted on both him and Nick. “I mean it. Anything out of the ordinary.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Nick nodded to her and that seemed to be enough.

Getting dressed in something other than his uniform was an adventure. Everything still hurt but he figured given the fights he’d been through that was par for the course. As they hit the ground and went from the jet to the car, he yawned a little. He’d just get a little sleep in the car…

~*~*~*~*~

Nick watched Clint sleep for a little longer than he normally would have. Given the concussion he should have woken him up sooner but when was the last time he’d gotten any sleep? Nick didn’t want to think too hard on it, or anything else. He leaned over, pressing his lips to Clint’s temple. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

Clint blinked up at him a little slower to wake than usual but awake. “Okay…” He hesitated as he got out of the car. Nick moved closer, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together. He knew what Clint was thinking. He was thinking it too but maybe if they just ripped it off like a Band-Aid it wouldn’t be as bad. Get it over with. He figured the longer they lingered, the longer they held it off, the worse it would get.

When the door closed behind them, he knew how wrong he’d been.

Clint moved quietly into the living room. He didn’t turn the light on. Nick found himself standing in the entrance way, not wanting to go any further. Everything seemed to tell him something—and he knew exactly what—was wrong. He forced himself to move, to hang up his coat, but his hand brushed Phil’s and started to shake a little.

There was going to be a coffee cup in the sink, rinsed out but not put away and a spoon sitting in it from the last morning he and Phil had spent in the apartment. There was going to be a suit jacket with engine grease on the lapel hanging over a chair in the bedroom. There was a book sitting on the coffee table in the living room with a plain red book mark just about half way through it. _Timely Comics – the Untold Story_. Phil had been reading it whenever they were home. It was easy enough to slip in and out of that he could leave it sitting for weeks on end and not have to back read.

He didn’t have to look to know all of this because nobody had been home since everything hit the fan. Everyone one of those things suddenly felt important, like moving them would somehow erase Phil from their home. The shaking in his hands got worse.

“Nick?”

He lifted his head and saw Clint in front of him. Nick couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and pulling him closer. “I’m going to fix this.” He muttered softly against Clint’s neck.

“Nick… even you can’t change what happened.” Clint held onto him, arms tight around his waist. It was grounding. It let him think a little clearer. As if he didn’t want to admit it, or was scared to actually say it out loud, Clint’s voice came out as a whisper. “I miss him already.”

“I know.” He pressed a soft kiss to his temple and rested their foreheads together. “I love you. I’m going to make this right.”

“I love you too.” Clint lifted his head, kissing Nick’s lips in a move that felt more like comfort than anything else. “We’ll figure it out.” The words seemed to be for both of them, like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince Nick. “Stark wanted to hunt down the cellist… I kinda snapped at him.”

“I’m sure you did.” Nick pressed his lips to Clint’s forehead, as if every kiss reminded him that he was real. That Nick wasn’t completely alone. 

“Rogers figured it out. We’ll probably have to tell them something.” There was a defeated note in Clint’s voice. But he was trying to push through everything he thought Nick should know.

“Okay. They’re your team. I trust you to tell them what you think they need to know.”

“Natasha knows… Rogers… well, I confirmed enough. Don’t know if he’s going to go back to Stark with it but if he does…”

“Okay.”

“Nick?” Clint’s shoulders tensed as he looked toward the hall that led to their bedroom. “I don’t want to go in there yet…”

Nick nodded. He wasn’t ready to face that empty side of the bed yet either. “Spare room?”

“Yeah… for tonight.” Clint seemed to brace himself, tightening his grip on Nick.

He took a few steps further into the apartment. “I’m sorry…” the words came out before he could figure out what he was thinking. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect either of you.”

“That’s not your job.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Nick… It's done now, and there's no undoing it. Not even with a time machine.” Clint’s voice was rough, like he couldn’t quite keep fighting back the want to collapse. “Let’s just… go to bed.”

“Okay. Come on.” He led Clint down to the guest room. He was and wasn’t surprised when he curled up on the far end of the bed. Clint usually gravitated toward the middle, but even here he seemed to want to distance himself from what he saw as Phil’s spot. Nick understood that. He figured he’d find himself curled up to Clint, firmly in the middle, unconsciously leaving room for another body. “I’ll be in in a minute.” He leaned in, kissing Clint’s lips again before heading to the bathroom.

He flicked on the light, blinking against the brightness for a second. Clint’s words tumbled through his brain and he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe…

He caught his own reflection in the mirror, noticing how tired and worn down he looked. No wonder Hill sent him home. He sighed, gripping the counter. He needed to sleep. He needed to hold Clint until that empty spot could be ignored, even for a little while. It wasn’t the time to be thinking about temporal mechanics and practical applications…

That was the exhaustion talking. It had to be. The idea was ridiculous. He stared at himself in the mirror just a little longer. He’d think about all that in the morning. He’d figure out a way to make it right again.

In the morning, after they’d slept, held onto each other and quietly mourned the empty spot on the bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Practical applications of theory are like catnip to scientists. Also, neither Tony or Clint can apologize like normal humans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, folks. Hopefully I'll get some speed behind these chapters. I hope it's worth the wait.

Something wasn’t right. Not in the slow painful death way. Not even in the quick-get-up-somebody’s-going-to-shoot-us way. Clint’s brain was very specific about that and he figured, given some of the places he’d fallen asleep over the years, his brain had to be specific about what kind of wrong they were dealing with. But no, it wasn’t anything that earth shattering. It was just a vague sense of things not lining up right. 

It took a slow shift of his head to figure it out. His brain woke up a little more and he remembered. Everything. His head wasn’t on Nick’s chest. The chest pressed to his back wasn’t Phil’s. It wasn’t even their bed. He was home, he was safe. He knew that part but home wasn’t what it was supposed to be.

Loki had fucked that up too. 

He felt the slight tremble through his muscles but couldn’t decide if it was the grief or the anger that was causing him to shake. He took a few deep breaths as Nick’s arm tightened around him. “You’re safe.” Nick’s voice filled his ear. “You’re okay. It’s over.”

He nodded and took another deep breath. “I know. I’m awake. I know.” He gripped Nick’s arm and leaned back into him. It felt odd. They’d become creatures of habit when they were all in the same city at the same time and they’d always managed to end up in the same places. If he had a nightmare, he could bury his face in Nick’s shoulder; listen to his heart until he calmed down. Or he could lean back into Phil and feel him hold on tighter and know he was safe. Something about having Nick at his back drove it all home.

He rolled over, making Nick roll on his back so he could at least put things back in some kind of alignment, even if there were still giant blocks missing. Nick wrapped his arms around him, landing them firmly in the middle of the bed. After awhile, he felt his breath even out and he stopped shaking. “Bad dream?”

Clint shook his head. “I didn’t remember when I woke up…. I mean, just now I thought—“ he sighed and looked up at Nick. “He should be here.”

“That’s because he should be.” Clint felt more than heard it when Nick sighed and he lifted his head. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Nick that lost, for lack of a better word. Even with his own grief bearing down on him, he reached out, cupped Nick’s cheek and kissed him softly. “Clint…”

“Don’t tell me you’ll fix it. Nick, you’ll drive yourself nuts thinking like that, okay?” Clint kissed him again. “We’ll be okay. Eventually we’ll…” His eyes fell on the empty side of the bed. “Eventually we’ll take up the whole bed again.”

“I know.” The words came out quiet, the way they did when he was half lost in some plan or op or mission or something that Clint probably wasn’t cleared to hear about. Nick snapped out of it, kissing him softly again. “C’mon. We should eat something.”

“Is there anything left in here?” Clint’s eyebrow went up a little. “I mean was anyone home while—“

“We… yeah, there’s food in the fridge.”

“Can we…?” Clint sighed resting his head on Nick’s chest again. It felt a little silly to be asking what he was asking. It was tradition to do a big breakfast if the three of them were home. But the three of them weren’t home. Still, it felt like they should honor it anyway. “Do we have eggs? Sausage? All the good stuff?”

Nick smiled sadly. “Yeah. Phil—“ He stopped and seemed to brace himself. “Phil wanted everything ready for when we brought you home.” Nick’s fingers came up and moved through Clint’s hair. “He never doubted we’d get you back.”

“Oh…” Clint found himself tracing a circle around the bruise on Nick’s chest.

Nick caught his wrist. “Clint…”

“No, Nick I could have killed you. Twice. How…”

Nick brought his hand up and pressed a kiss to it. “Yeah, you could have. But you didn’t. You knew I was wearing body armor. I know you, Clint. A head shot at that distance is nothing to you. But you didn’t take the shot. That’s how we knew.” He emphasized the ‘we’ and Clint nodded. Part of him was glad they had had enough time together to consider that while he was gone. Part of him was jealous that Nick got those moments, especially since…

He buried his head against Nick’s shoulder and let himself have a weak moment. “I miss him so much. I don’t even think it’s sunk in yet, but…”

“I know.” Nick held him tighter and Clint looked up at him at the break in his voice. “I…” he hesitated again, and Clint had to wonder if anyone else—aside from Phil—even realized how much everything that happened had effected him. He wondered if all they saw was the same stoic, tough man they always saw and not realized he’d had everything important to him ripped away. And he wondered how long Nick could have kept that up if the punch to the head hadn’t worked. “I don’t want to believe it.”

“I know.” He echoed Nick’s words to him before sliding up and kissing his lips. “We… we’ll get through this. We…” he tried to find the right words, the right motivation to get them both out of bed. He stumbled over the first word that left his mouth. “We’ll make him proud of us.”

Nick nodded, relaxing a little. “Yeah. We will.” He leaned in and kissed Clint again. “Let’s get some food going.”

It would have been a normal morning with one more body moving around the kitchen. Neither of them mentioned it when they had to do something that had been Phil’s job. Nick didn’t say anything when Clint had to wipe his eyes while chopping up the mushrooms. Clint didn’t say anything when Nick gripped the counter and his shoulders shook a little a moment after adding the cheese to the eggs on the stove. The little things seemed to be the hardest as they put everything together but as they sat down, it seemed oddly quiet. Clint reached over and took Nick’s hand as he realized how silent it was without Phil telling him to keep his elbows off the good place mats or telling Nick that Hill called and the WSC changed their meeting time while he was in the shower, or the million other things Phil always kept together for them.

Nick squeezed his hand, obviously thinking the same thing Clint was. He lifted his coffee cup and tinged it against the rim of Clint’s glass. He had to fight the urge to look back at the sink. One of them was going to have to knuckle down and put that mug away eventually. It wasn’t going to be that day though. Not yet.

He shoveled a mouthful of omelet into his mouth. It tasted right. He sighed and gave Nick a small smile. “It’s good.”

“I tried.” Nick smiled back before digging into his own meal. Clint was half way through his breakfast when Nick spoke again. “How are you feeling? Headache?”

He shrugged. “No more than any other time Natasha’s kicked the shit out of me.” He looked up and held Nick’s gaze. “I’m okay. I’m thinking maybe… going to the range for awhile? Blow off some steam…”

“You want some company?”

“No… no, I’m sure you’ve got other stuff that needs doing.” He regretted saying it the moment the words left his mouth. “I mean… I don’t know. I know how you get when… I know you feel better with something to do, is all I mean.”

“I know what you mean.” Nick took the last bite of sausage off his plate and opened his mouth to speak again. It was interrupted by his phone ringing. He frowned and went into the other room to take the call. Clint heard bits and pieces as he cleaned up. “I’m aware of regulations.”, “I don’t care if psych agrees with you.” and, “I think that’s excessive given the current situation.” Were the common, if less colorful phrases.

When Nick came back into the kitchen, he looked a little worse for wear. “Hill making you take the full two weeks bereavement leave?”

“Looks that way.”

“Nick…”

“No, it’s fine. I’ve…” Clint watched the ideas chase each other around behind Nick’s eye. “I’ll find something to keep busy on.”

“I’m sure you will. You always do.” Clint turned back to the nearly empty sink and stared at the mug. Nick’s arms wrapped around him and he leaned back. “I don’t want to move it…”

“I know.” Nick kissed his neck and sighed. “Go grab a shower. I’ll… I’ll do it.”

Clint nodded and turned in Nick’s arms. “Come join me when you’re done?”

“Yeah…” A small smile curled the corners of his lips up and Clint counted it as a victory. “Yeah, I’ll be in in a bit.” Clint ignored it when Nick picked up his phone again. The water almost drowned out his voice anyway. “Sitwell… I need a favor.”

~*~*~*~*~

“I don’t know how much longer I could have stalled him, honestly.” Sitwell kept pace with Nick as they moved through the HQ toward the labs. “It wasn’t until I mentioned that you wanted to see him that he stopped trying to run for the door.”

Nick nodded. “That’s not really that surprising. I’m sure he’s got a line of questioning all set up for me.”

“Sir…” Jasper hesitated. That told Nick enough to know they weren’t going to be talking about work for a moment. “Linda wanted to know if there’s anything you and Agent Barton needed.” He rubbed the back of his head. “She’s going to send you enough food to feed most of SHIELD anyway, but she wanted to know if there was anything special…”

Nick smiled a little. Linda Sitwell had a tendency to mother anybody that she deemed one of her own. She was the reason her husband knew what he knew about his bosses and Nick found it hard to be upset by that. After all, Jasper had been Phil’s friend. Linda had a tendency to send food on the holidays and whenever else she created something she thought they’d enjoy. He should have seen this coming. “Tell her that’s very kind but she doesn’t have to do anything.”

“I did. She said I should shut up and ask anyway.”

Nick thought about it for a minute. “I think those cheese things she sent over for Christmas maybe?”

“The gooey ones with the garlic and chili sauce?”

“Yeah.” Clint had liked them and Phil… well, it’d be nice to have something that reminded them of a good holiday with all of them there. He’d owe Linda a whole lot for that.

“They’ll probably beat you home, Sir.” Sitwell smiled a little before shaking his head and punching the access code for the lab into the key pad.

Nick nodded and put a hand on the other agent’s shoulder before going into the lab. It took a second to get his Director Fury persona back into place fully, though he wondered if going in as Nick—without the power and the tactics and everything else his position lent him—he wondered if that wouldn’t have been a better approach as Dr. Banner turned to face him.

“I figured you’d get here eventually.”

“I need to speak with you. Unofficially.”

“Oh, that never bodes well.” Banner shook his head. “I would like to know before I go, what exactly SHIELD is planning on doing with the tesseract.”

“Officially no decision has been made.” Nick crossed his arms and leaned against the console closest to him. “Unofficially, the WSC will want to keep doing what it’s been doing with it. Thor apparently needs it to get Loki back to Asgard. I’m inclined to let him have it.”

Banner nodded. “He mentioned a device that would run on the energy from the cube. I figured he’d talk us all into stealing it to get it away from—“

“Me? No.” Nick shook his head. “The further from here that thing gets, the better.”

“That will likely put you in a tight spot with your council.”

“Won’t be the first time.”

Banner studied him for a moment. “How many times have you gone to bat for us that we don’t even know about?”

“A lot.”

Banner nodded. “Well… thank you.”

Nick shrugged. He hadn’t been expecting that and wasn’t quite sure what to do with it so he pushed forward. “How much do you know about quantum mechanics, doctor?”

“A bit… why?”

“Loki got away with one thing during all this that I couldn’t get back. I’d like to fix that.” Nick kept the poker face he’d honed for years in the face of scarier things than Bruce Banner perfectly in place. It seemed like Banner was looking for some tell, some sign of what he was after, but he didn’t let any of it show. Not yet. If Clint hadn’t told his team about the three of them, Nick wasn’t about to out him. They might have figured out about Clint and Phil but if he wasn’t a part of it yet, he was going to play that hand as close to his chest as he could.

“Theoretically, it’s possible you could retrieve something. Though the idea is that you’d create a completely separate timeline by doing so.”  
“Would a team be able to come back to this timeline though?”

“Theoretically, yes.”

“What about practically?”

“Practically?” Banner’s eyebrow crept up. “You want to build a time machine?”

Nick shrugged again. “It’s an option. What we need to get back is… unique and vitally important.”

“I don’t know if it is even possible…”

“Could you figure it out?”

To his credit Banner thought about it for several minutes. “With the right team and enough time? Maybe…” Bruce leaned against a counter, mirroring Nick. “I’d like to bring Tony in on it. The rate he picks up things like this is impressive and he does have a unique perspective.”

“If that’s who you need. Do it.”

“I’m not sure I want to stick around that long, if I’m perfectly honest with you, Director.”

“If you’re worried about Ross, I can make sure he keeps his distance.” Nick sighed. “Hell, I’ll do that either way. I don’t like the guy.”

Banner laughed and Nick found himself smiling a little. “I don’t think you’re alone on that one.”

“To be honest, if you all scatter for a week or so, it might be easier to talk the WSC into not tracking you.” Nick pushed off the counter. “I figured you’d all want to see Thor on his way at least. That should be happening in the next few days.”

“I would like to be sure things ended up where they should be.” Bruce nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I can ask for.” Nick nodded. 

“Thanks for the offer though. And not just… well, locking me up until I agreed.”

“That doesn’t work. With anybody.” Nick couldn’t quite hold in a chuckle. “Especially when you’re asking that person for help.”

“True enough. Though you know Stark will likely just jump at this idea without asking much about why until it’s as inconvenient as possible, right?”

“I know. If he can get it done, I don’t particularly care.”

“Duly noted.” Nick got the feeling of being under glass again. He wondered how many people Banner could stare down if he had to. “What are you trying to get back?”

“That will be need to know, Doctor.”

“Mhmm. And what if I need to know? If we do pull this off, I would need to know what will be coming back and if it will affect the fields we’d be working with.”

“If and when you figure that out, Doctor, you’ll be informed of the payload.”

“In other words, do the job and the truth is the reward?”

“No. Let’s just say I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes too high, alright?” Nick stood and straightened his coat. “Think about it, Doctor and let me know when you’ve made up your mind, one way or another.” Banner nodded and Nick headed to the door with a fair amount of certainty that he’d be on board. If nothing else, the curiosity would be a motivating factor.

~*~*~*~*~

_Draw, release. Draw, release._ There was peace in the repetitive nature of it all. Clint had always thought so. He’d worked his way through the obstacle course hours ago—though he would admit he wasn’t really paying attention to his watch—and had moved to the range to try to clear his head where the running and jumping and rolling and loosing arrows hadn’t.

Here, without the added distraction, he could just let it all go. He could just try to not think for awhile. Any thoughts he didn’t want, they’d fly away with the arrows.

Draw. _Nick’s up to something that is likely going to drive him nuts or get him court martialled._ Release.

Draw. _Phil would know what he’s got up his sleeve. Phil would want me to make sure he’s okay. That he’s not going to do anything stupid._ Release.

Draw. _What if Natasha hadn’t caught up with me and I’d made it to the detention level? What would I have done? What would Phil have done?_ Release.

But he couldn’t release that one so easily. Four arrows later, that thought was sticking with him. Was Nick right? He was right about the shot Clint had taken at the testing facility. That would have been an easy shot, but he went for center of mass instead of the kill. Did he pull his punches with Natasha too? Would he have put up less of a fight against Phil? He didn’t have an answer for any of it and it was eating at him. 

“You dropped your elbow on that last one.”

He turned, lowering the notched arrow when he saw Natasha leaning against the door frame. “Thanks. Must be getting tired.” 

“I was surprised when I was told you and Nick were here.”

“Nick’s here?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

Clint shook his head. “Hill put him on bereavement leave. Me too, come to think of it but…”

“When has Hill ever stopped either of you from doing anything?” Natasha smiled and shook her head. “I don’t disagree with her though. You both need time.”

“Neither of us do well with too much time on our hands and you of all people know that.”

“It’s only been a day, Clint…”

“I know.”

“Shouldn’t you two be working out details and… all that?” She waved a hand indirectly. He raised an eyebrow at her. Natasha wasn’t one to beat around the bush so her dance around saying ‘shouldn’t you be planning your lover’s funeral?’ almost made him smile. Almost.

“We all have the details worked out… we’ve just got to sign a few papers and… yeah.”

“That…” she smiled and shook her head. “That’s a very Coulson thing to do.”

“He was good like that.” Clint hid the flinch at referring to him in past tense. “He always said, when it came down to it, none of us would want to have to pick out flowers and stuff. It was one less thing to worry about when he figured we’d have enough on our minds.”

“He was right.”

“Yeah.” Clint turned back to his target. “Call it.”

It was an old game with them, she’d call a spot on the target, he’d hit it. Simple, effective. Kept him from getting too complacent while practicing.

“Third ring, top corner. Just below the highest one you’ve got on there.” Just below translated to ‘brush the fletching together if you can’. He took a moment to breathe before loosing the arrow. The fletching brushed the underside of the one already in the target as it sank in. “You should be at home, Clint. With Nick. You two—“

“Nat, I promise we’re not avoiding each other. We’re not doing the stupid guy bullshit where we don’t talk about it. We kinda talked about it this morning. Just… let us be, okay?”

She nodded once. “To the gym then?”

He looked back at her. He wasn’t getting the perfect silence anymore anyway. “Okay. I’ll meet you there. Just let me pack up.” Twenty minutes later, he was surprised to be facing down a heavy bag instead of Natasha.

“Head injury. I won’t beat you into a pulp again until I know you’re at one hundred percent.”

“Gee. Thanks, Nat. You’re so good to me.” She swung the bag toward him, tapping his knee with it. “Okay… so what? You’re just going to stand there and watch?”

“And listen, if you like.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He threw two punches at the bag. “I don’t think it’s completely sunk in yet…”

“I would imagine not.” She held the bag against a few more punches. “How is Nick?”

“I don’t know… neither of us are good, obviously.” He grunted at the next few blows. “He’s… he wants to fix it and I know he can’t but he’s not ready to hear that so…”

“Mm. He’s not used to not being able to help or do something about the bad things in your lives. I don’t think he’s ever been as… helpless as he was during everything that happened.”

“You saw that?”

“I did. But I doubt anyone else did.” She sighed and gave him half a shrug. “Coulson knew, of course.”

“Phil could read us both like a book. He knew.”

“He blames himself.” Clint didn’t have to look at her to know she was talking about Nick. He saw it too. 

“I do too… not him. I blame me.”

“You’re too alike. It’s no one’s fault but Loki’s.”

“I know that. I just can’t… feel it yet.” He stepped back, bouncing on the balls of his feet a little. Natasha always made it easy to fill her in. She didn’t ask leading questions. She didn’t badger him. She just let it all come out in its own time. If she worked in the psych department, he’d feel a lot better about spending some time down there. “Nick’s making me go to psych about it all.”

“Good.” She nodded once.

“Yeah…” He landed a few more punches. “He said he’s going to go too.”

“Even better.” She leveled him with a look. “I would have forced you both if I had to.”

“I know. Hill’s probably going to back you up if it comes down to it. You won’t have to. Though I might ask you to kick my ass a little on appointment days.”

“Deal.” She let a soft smile cross her face for a moment. “Come on, Barton. I know you can hit harder than that.”

He lost himself in the rhythm again and his mind cleared. Between the range, the heavy bag and talking to Natasha, he was definitely feeling a little less lost. As he took the wraps off his hands, he caught Natasha’s eye. “You got any plans?”

“Stark is trying to get everyone to come together again at his tower. Thor’s there. As far as I know Bruce is too.”

“I probably owe Stark an apology.” Clint rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Not in my books. But if you feel the need…” She watched him for a moment, more like his codename-sake than her own. “I was thinking of going over and saying hello anyway.”

He shook his head a little. “Since when you do go anywhere just to say hello?”

“Since we became a team.” There was a level of sincerity in her voice that surprised him. 

He studied her for a moment. “You think that’s going to work?”

“I think it’s worth a try.” For anyone else, he’d write that reply off as flippant. Natasha meant what she said though. She wasn’t sure it would work. Anyone who thought that with everything so up in the air would be an idiot and that was something Natasha never was. But it was worth seeing if they could make it work. That was an intriguing idea.

He grabbed a towel and sighed, looking toward the locker room. “Okay, meet you out front. If I’m going to apologize, I’m going to look good doing it.”

~*~*~*~

Tony’s hands shot up and Clint couldn’t tell if this was Stark masking fear with theatrics or being actually afraid of him. Phil would have known. Nick would probably have known too. Clint just didn’t have a read on the guy yet. “I’m not here to shoot you, Stark. You can put your hands down.” He sighed and suddenly wished he hadn’t left Natasha on the other level with Rogers. “I owe you an apology.”

“Oh really? You think?”

Clint put his own hands up. “Look, no bow, no guns, no cutlery… I just want to talk.”

Tony relaxed a little, but continued to watch him like he was going to strike. “It has been brought to my attention that I was probably a little bit of an ass that night.”

“Steve said you deserved it?”

“Pepper actually.”

Clint nodded. Phil had always liked Pepper Potts. He kind of figured that was why. “She sounds like a smart woman.”

Tony seemed to dodge that comment. Maybe his brain was already onto something else. Clint wasn’t sure. He was sure, however what Tony was talking about when he spoke again. “I didn’t know.”

“Nobody did.”

“It wasn’t in any of the files I saw.”

“You went through personal files?” Clint felt the urge to start throwing forks again grow in his chest. “Does Nick know about that?”

“Probably does by now. And I didn’t just pick random files. Just the ones of people I knew… or think I should know. Or that owe me an explanation.”

“Nobody owes you their personal shit, Stark.”

“You’re starting to sound like Coulson… and Pepper.”

“Doesn’t take a genius to see that any of our personal shit is none of your business. And that’s probably the nicest thing you’ll ever say to me.”

“Still haven’t heard you say ‘I’m sorry for throwing a fork at you, Tony’.”

“I’m sorry.” Clint gritted his teeth.

“That’s better.”

Clint’s hands clenched at his sides. “I’m sorry I missed.”

Stark’s eyebrow shot up. “I thought you never missed.”

“I don’t. If I hear you so much as breathe the stuff that was in those files, I won’t hit the wall.”

“Clint!” Natasha’s voice made him turn. “That’s not how normal humans apologize.”

“Did you hear what he got into when he hacked SHIELD?”

Her eyes narrowed on Stark. “You can’t just leave well enough alone about anything, can you?”

“What?”

She put a hand on Clint’s arm, steadying him. “Stark, think about it. Use that genius brain of yours. People that do what we do make enemies. People that work for SHIELD are targets. Anyone that can get the bad guys closer to us is a target. Do you have any idea how many lives you put at risk because you can’t mind your own business?”

“I’m not going to tell anybody. I didn’t go through every file. Just… yours.”

“Tony…” Rogers’ voice echoed from the doorway. “At the very least that’s rude as hell. If people wanted you to know what’s going on in their lives, they’d tell you. This is just… a breach of trust.”

Stark opened and closed his mouth a few times. Clint wondered vaguely if that was some kind of genius brain-aerating system because when he stopped moving his mouth, he seemed to start thinking. “Alright… so I owe you an apology too. Let’s call it even.”

“Fine.”

“So which was it?”

Clint knew what he was asking. If he saw the files he saw who Clint’s medical proxies were. So the question was bound to come up but Clint felt he was entitled to batting Stark around a little. “Which was what?”

“Coulson or Fury? You were or are fucking one of them right? So which one?”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Tony!”

“It’s fine.” Clint crossed his arms and leaned against the work bench. “Yes.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He smirked a little. “It is if you think about it for more than a second.”

“Yes, you are or were sleeping with one of them?”

“Yes.” His smirk grew.

“Which one?”

“Which one what?” He barely managed not laugh.

“Oh for God’s sake.” Clint almost felt Natasha rolling her eyes at him. “Stark, they were together. All three of them.” She shook her head as his jaw dropped. “For someone who claims to be a playboy, you understand so little…”

“Hey!”

“She’s got a point, Tony.” Rogers sounded like he was smirking. Clint knew he was. The innocent super soldier figured out the threesome before Tony. That was going to burn for awhile, he was sure.

Tony stared at Clint for a minute. “All three of you.”

“Yeah.”

“How long?”

Clint figured a simple answer was more appropriate. Besides, if Nick wanted Stark to know how long he and Phil had been together, that was on him to tell. Clint figured his own secrets should be enough to hold Stark for a little while anyway. “Six years.”

“Damn… okay.” Tony nodded. “Okay, I get it. I earned the fork.”

“No. You didn’t.” Clint rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s been a long run for everyone.”

“I have a tendency to push my luck in moments like that.” Stark smirked.

“You have a tendency to push your luck all the time.” Natasha shook her head before looking at Steve and Clint in turn. “It takes some getting used to.”

“Thank you, Agent Romanov.”

“You’re welcome.”

Before anyone could get a response out, the door to the lab opened again. “Oh…” Bruce seemed to hesitate before coming in. “Sorry, did I miss a team meeting?”

“No… no, I think we’re done.” Clint nodded and Tony nodded back. It was a good start. He still didn’t trust the guy but… it was a start. And his level of trust in Rogers had gone up considerably. “It’s probably time I headed home anyway.”

“I’ve still got designs for each of you, if you want.” Tony cleared his throat. “I mean, I could rework them…”

“That’s not entirely up to me.” Clint shrugged and avoided saying no flat out. The thought of leaving what had been home for years right at that moment didn’t sit well. It felt a little like abandoning what had been a really good time in his life. He thought there was a good chance Nick would feel the same. Twenty years in the same apartment was hard to give up, likely. Clint knew five years there had already made him far too attached. “But I’ll talk to Nick.”

Stark nodded again. “Um… Pepper probably knows already but when’s the—“

“Day after tomorrow.” Clint swallowed hard. He was not looking forward to the memorial service. It’d be small, of course but still… he wasn’t feeling brave enough to keep it together. Not just yet. Natasha’s hand on his arm made him want to break more, even knowing she was trying to lend some strength. He cleared his throat and pulled away a little, hoping she’d understand why. “Look just… don’t do anything crazy, okay?” He leveled Tony with a look that would have made Nick and Phil proud of him. “Things are the way they are because that’s what Phil wanted. Don’t… flood the place with flowers or anything.”

“I won’t. Pepper already nixed that idea, actually.”

“I owe her a thank you then.”

“Yeah, she’s good at the appropriate reaction stuff.” Tony cleared his throat too and pushed away from what he had been working on. “So.” He changed the tone of his voice considerably and moved toward Banner. “What’d you bring to distract me?”

“Well…” He glanced around the room for a moment, eyes lingering on Clint. “I had a job offer today. Practical applications of theoretical…”

“I’m interested already.”

“String theory… quantum mechanics…”

“Somebody wants to build a time machine?” Tony’s eyes lit up as if they hadn’t just be talking about a funeral. “I’m in!”

“That’s exactly what they want. I’m not entirely sure it’s possible. And I’m not sure what they want it for…” Bruce looked at Clint again.

“Who approached you?” Natasha stepped forward, catching Bruce’s attention before Clint started to squirm.

He hesitated in answering as if he wasn’t sure this was the right room for the information he had. Clint was starting to feel like he should just excuse himself and go home. The way Banner was looking at him made him feel like this conversation would have been a lot smoother if he wasn’t there. “Fury did.”

Clint’s brain spun for a moment. Of course, it was Nick. Banner’s eyes weren’t the only ones on him anymore. “What’d he say he wanted it for?”

“He said it was a retrieval operation.”

Clint let his eyes close and nodded. “Right. Retrieval. Got it.” He shook his head. “Excuse me. I think I need to go home.” Before anyone could argue, he was out the door and in the elevator.

Of all the stupid, selfish, completely unbalanced, fucked up things Nick could think up… Clint fumed the entire way back to the apartment. He pushed the door open with more force than was necessary. “What the fuck are you thinking?”

Nick turned from the meal he was putting together and sighed. “Talked to Banner, I take it?”

“Yeah.” Clint felt the wind change on him and he sagged a little. “Why? Nick, this isn’t—“

“It isn’t anything yet.” Nick stepped forward, reaching out and putting a hand on Clint’s cheek. He found himself too tired to fight. Not surprising, really but still. “It’s an option.”

“It’s fucking nuts.”

Nick smiled. “Yeah, it is.” He leaned in, wrapping his arms around Clint. Clint leaned into him. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

“My hopes aren’t up. Its nuts. It’s impossible.”

“Theoretically—“

“Leave that shit to the scientists, please.”

“What if we can get him back, Clint?”

“That’s a big what if. Nick. I don’t like giving up either but this is—“

“I just want to know for sure.”

Clint sighed. There was no way to argue this and if he was honest with himself, he’d felt his heart skip at the idea that they could bring him back. That they could change it all. That Loki wouldn’t get that victory. He needed to think on it all for awhile before they had this discussion. He needed to prepare to bury the man they’d both loved, even if they could find a way to get him back. Nick might be drawing strength from this idea but Clint couldn’t see that far yet.

He lifted his head, pressing a soft kiss to Nick’s lips. They’d talk about it later. After. “What’s for dinner?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil's funeral brings a few things into perspective for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long. It was... well, really draining to write, honestly. I hope it's worth the wait though.
> 
> Thanks to [ladydeathfaerie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydeathfaerie/pseuds/ladydeathfaerie) as always for her wonderful cheerleading and betaing.

Nick felt distinctly like something in the order of the universe had to have been fucked up. It wasn’t right. In his mind, as silly as it was—and he knew that—funerals shouldn’t happen on bright sunny days. But the weather was beautiful. Birds were singing. The car crept by playgrounds full of kids playing and laughing and it all rankled his nerves.

Phil deserved more than this. He deserved to have some universal acknowledgement that someone wonderful, someone important wasn’t there anymore.

Instead, he got this.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, sighing softly even as Clint put a hand on his knee. He didn’t have to say anything. In fact, silence was probably a better bet anyway. All he wanted to tell him, he had. Clint still felt like Nick was putting off dealing with everything. And maybe he was. He wasn’t above saying that he’d rather put his energy into something even vaguely tangible rather than this… show.

He wanted to say it wasn’t necessary. That he’d fix it. That he’d find a way to make it so they wouldn’t have to say the goodbyes everyone was expected to say at a funeral. But it would take time, ironically. Assuming the brightest minds on the planet could even pull it off.

He sighed again and put his hand on Clint’s. He squeezed it gently. It was a signal that he was alright; or as alright as either of them could be. They’d all been so good at reading those signals that half the time they never needed to say a word to each other to get whatever they wanted to say across. It’d been handy when they were keeping everything under wraps but sitting there in that car, Nick didn’t want to keep any more secrets. At least not for that day. He shouldn’t have to, he figured. He was burying the man he’d spent nearly twenty years with. He shouldn’t have to bullshit his way through that.

Clint seemed to pick up on the frustration in him and squeezed his hand again before leaning in and wrapping his arms around him for a moment. “You ready?”

“No.”

Clint sighed. “We can wait a little longer…”

“I’m never going to be ready for this.”

“I know. Me either.” Clint rested his head on Nick’s shoulder. “Look, why don’t you let Natasha do the eulogy? Nobody’s going to think less of you for that.”

“No.” He gritted his teeth. “No. It’s the least I can do. If I can’t be here as—” He shook his head. They knew it’d be like this. He’d had this conversation with Phil so many times. How they’d probably never get to bury each other as lovers, partners… but they could do it as friends and that’s where it all started. That was feeling very hollow at that moment but he’d have to live with that. “No. I’ll do it.”

“Nick…”

“It’s not stubborn pride. I promise. It’s just…” Nick sighed and pressed a kiss to Clint’s lips before resting their foreheads together. “I promised him I’d do this much. I’ll do it.”

“Okay.” Clint kissed him again, one hand coming up to cup the back of his head and make sure he didn’t pull away. Nick wasn’t sure he’d have it in him in that moment to pull away anyway, but there was some comfort in the touch. “But he wouldn’t want you beating the shit out of yourself for this. You know what he’d say about all this…”

“That funerals are for the living, not the dead. I know. I heard it a million times or more.”

“Well… he wouldn’t want you suffering for all this.”

“I know.”

“He would tell you it’s stupid and he wouldn’t want you miserable for some empty promise.”

“I _know_.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry. I know he’d be telling me that but he’s not here to do it. And I have to get up there and…” Nick felt himself slump a little. “It’s for me. I need to know I can be strong for you and for him through this.”

“You don’t have to be strong enough for me. We…” Clint sighed again. “God, this is fucking cheesy, but I think the point is that we’re supposed to be strong for each other, right?”

Nick wanted to tell him he’d been through enough. That he didn’t want to put his shit on Clint’s shoulders when he had enough of his own to carry. That he wanted to help him through what was going to be a long road with all the shit Loki did to him. He didn’t. It wasn’t the time. He simply brought his hand up, cupping the back of Clint’s head the way he’d touched Nick. “I know. And I love you for it.” He kissed him softly again, lengthening it more to avoid getting out of the car than anything else.

“I love you too.” Clint breathed the words across his lips and sighed again. “Let’s get this over with.”

Getting out of the car was not something he was looking forward to. He blinked into the sun a few times, again cursing it for being out and so damn bright that day. The walk up to the funeral home—“ _For fuck’s sake, Nick please don’t let some priest I never met do this”_ —was a blur of people. A few of them knew how this was likely weighing on him. Very few. The Avengers rallied around Clint, as they should. They were his team, he needed them through this. And they were all subtle enough about it to not tip the hand. He knew they knew but still. It was nice to see that Clint had the support without the big show he knew Stark could put on if he wanted.

Nick stayed a few steps back as they filed in, hands folded in the small of his back, the small cards burning his palm. He could do this. He had to do this. And if he had to do it alone, so be it. 

He nearly jumped when a warm hand touched his arm. It took a second to sink in that Hill was just behind him with Sitwell and Linda had her hand on his sleeve. “It’s okay to have a little support, Director.”

He patted her hand and looked back at the two agents behind him. Hill nodded once, obviously agreeing with Mrs. Sitwell’s assessment. Jasper tried to give him a smile and managed a little one. “Thanks.” He managed to get the word out without his voice shaking, hoping they got that it was for all of them. 

His arm felt cold for a minute when Linda let go and he walked forward to sit beside Clint. The cold seemed to spread. Maybe it was a survival instinct. He wasn’t entirely sure but he straightened his coat a little, as if to fend it off. Clint’s hand closed over his and chased it back again. He flipped his hand, lacing his and Clint’s fingers together. Propriety be damned. He needed that support, if nothing else. Anyone who didn’t like it could go fuck themselves. 

He ran the words he’d put together in his head over and over. Making sure he knew them well enough not to rely on the cards in his hand. Anything was better than listening to some random person that didn’t know Phil and didn’t know shit about what he’d given everything for talk about the good of man and the strength to be taken from each other in times of trail. 

He heard the man say his name and he closed his eye against what he had to do. He swallowed hard as Clint squeezed his hand. “Nick…”

He nodded once, returning the squeeze and looking at Clint for a moment before standing. It took a few seconds to make sure his knees weren’t going to betray him but he made his way up to the podium. He ignored the funeral director’s offer of sympathy. He couldn’t accept that from the people closest to him at that point, he sure as hell wasn’t going to take it from a complete stranger. 

He set the note cards down and braced himself against the podium. Part of his mind told him this was pointless. They’d get him back. They’d make sure this wasn’t necessary. Phil’s own words when they’d worked out details years ago echoed through his head. _This isn’t for me; it’s for you and everyone else to get some kind of closure. I don’t want to be a burden, Nick. In any way_.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He could do this. “I met Phil Coulson twenty five years ago.”

_Why the hell is there an action figure sticking out of your back pocket?_

_That’s my good luck Captain America._

_You’re nuts._

_Probably._

“Even then he was the most level-headed, clear thinking, capable person I think I’d ever met. I knew, as we got to know each other that this man would watch my back and do what needed to be done. I knew I could trust him.”

_Cheese… we shouldn’t be doing this._

_I know. I know…. I won’t ask if you don’t tell, okay?_

_Worst joke you’ve ever made._

_I know. Kiss me again and shut me up._

“He was a hero. He saved more lives than I think he realized. He was one of the best soldiers I ever served with. He saw me through some of the roughest patches that life ever threw at me.”

_It looks good._

_That’s a fucking lie and you know it._

_No. It’s not. You’re here, you’re alive. That looks good on you._

_… what am I going to do now?_

_I don’t know. But I’ll do it with you._

“We came into SHIELD together, rose through the ranks together and I was constantly amazed at how he managed to keep things running as smoothly as possible in the face of insurmountable odds.”

_Does this mean I have to call you, Sir all the time now?_

_At work. Yeah._

_At home I might just do it a little more often too._

_Have I told you I love you today?_

_No, but now’s a good time._

“He was a man who held to the belief that we could all be better than we are. That we could accomplish more as a group than any one person could alone. That we would survive anything if we worked together.”

_I’m not leaving. I love you. I just think maybe…_

_You love him too?_

_No. Not yet. But I think maybe I could._

_Phil… okay. Okay, if he wants in, okay._

_You sure?_

_No… but I think maybe I could be._

“He gave his life for that belief.” Nick’s grip on the podium tightened. He could do this. “Agent Coulson…” He looked down at the cards again and took a deep breath. “Phil was my best friend. My good eye…” _My lover, my partner…_ “He kept us all together. He kept me together…”

_Eyes on me!_

He couldn’t focus on the cards; couldn’t make the words out anymore, or make them make sense. It all crashed in around him but he tried to hold it together. “Phil…” as soon as his name left Nick’s mouth, he knew he couldn’t continue. He was going to break in front of half of SHIELD, all the Avengers… and he couldn’t stop it. 

He couldn’t have been more shocked when Clint’s hand closed over his. He should have seen the other man coming up to him. He couldn’t have asked for a better vantage point, but the touch did it. He slumped and wordlessly let Clint lead him back to their seats, letting Natasha get up and finish the speech Nick had written. “It’s okay. You did good.”

Nick shook his head. He should have been able to keep it together for this. For Phil’s sake, he should have pulled himself together and continued. One more let down to add to the collection. He fisted his hands in his lap and willed himself not to fall apart. It took every ounce of strength he had left, and completely tuning out any of the wonderful things the people around him had to say about Phil but he did it. 

He swore to himself again that he’d make this right. He swore he’d make sure this wasn’t necessary. Whatever it took, Nick told himself again, he’d make it right.

~*~*~*~*~

Bruce was used to feeling somewhat out of place. He’d only been in New York for a few days—half of that really just hovering over what he assumed was the waters off the coast—but he’d told Tony he’d stay at least until after Agent Coulson’s funeral. He hadn’t expected to be invited along. He’d never met the man. Probably would have had trouble picking him out of a line up if he tried but Pepper had smiled at him with red rimmed eyes and said, “We’ll all need a little extra strength today, Doctor.” And he found himself agreeing.

He thought it was the least he could do. He could tell the instinct in the group was to support their own. Understandable really since, as far as he knew, aside from himself they all had ties to Agent Coulson. But they were holding Clint up as much as they could. 

What he hadn’t anticipated was the outpouring from the usually so closed and tight world of SHIELD. The importance of this man within the system he was a part of was evident. The snippets he heard as people moved from the chapel to the hall where they were having a wake told of someone who played a much larger role than Bruce had assumed. He knew he had been Nick Fury’s right hand, but he also seemed to have played negotiator, babysitter, teacher… every role possible to the agents that streamed past.

“They say it’s hard to tell what kind of mark a person leaves until they’re gone.”

Bruce turned abruptly, finding Dr. Selvig standing next to him. “Yes… it seems Agent Coulson’s mark might have been bigger than even he realized.” The older man nodded but remained quiet, observing the same way Bruce had been. 

“Did you know him?” Selvig broke the silence again.

“No. No, I actually never really met him. We shared space a few times. That’s about it.” Bruce shrugged. “You?”

“Professionally, yes. I saw a lot of him in New Mexico.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I felt… well, after everything. It seemed right to be here.”

Bruce understood that feeling. Perhaps Dr. Selvig felt some level of responsibility in connection with the agent’s death. It had been his work that led the way and all that and Bruce found himself sympathizing on that front. He knew that feeling; when things were and weren’t your fault. He nodded slowly and went back to the soft bits of conversation flowing through the space in the room.

“—that time with the gun runners in Oslo? I’d be dead now if he hadn’t—“

“Every time I walk down that hall and see his office door closed… I know it’s only been a couple days but—“

“—still don’t know how he managed to get that door open, but he got us all out. I always figured maybe he was meta and just—”

There were bits and pieces of this man’s life as an agent drifting into Bruce’s mind as people milled about the room, nibbling politely on canapés. Most of them looked like it was an automatic response; like they weren’t hungry at all but the food was a brief distraction from the loss. The more he heard, the more something Fury had said swirled around in his mind.

_What we need to get back is… unique and vitally important._

Bruce couldn’t help but feel like he was getting a glimpse at what—rather who—Fury’s target was. Maybe if he hadn’t been slowly absorbing the respect and love this man had garnered; maybe if he hadn’t seen Tony holding Pepper closer as she cried for a man that was obviously a dear friend; maybe if he could block out that empty and very familiar look in both Clint and Director Fury’s face… maybe he’d question the man’s motives about what he thought he was up to. Maybe he’d say it was the grief motivating him. Surely on some level it was. And he couldn’t blame Fury for that. Who wouldn’t want to go back and save someone so important to them? But as he took it all in, he thought that, once again, Fury had another purpose.

He thought maybe Phil Coulson had been important enough to merit that kind of extreme tactic.

As if that had been enough to make up his mind, Bruce started going over specs in his head. It might take a little time—any other time he would have chuckled at the pun—and it’d been some time since he’d given temporal mechanics any real thought.

Maybe it was time to brush up.

“Dr Selvig.” Bruce turned and faced the man fully. “Would you be interested in a bit of a conference?”

“Conference?” The man’s eyebrows knit together. “What kind of conference?”

Bruce shot a look toward Tony. “I think we might be needing your help with a project. Unofficially.”

~*~*~*~*~

Seeing Nick nearly break was almost too much for Clint. Natasha knew that. If she was honest with herself, it was hard to watch him try to pull himself together and if Clint hadn’t decided to lend him some strength, Natasha was considering doing the same thing. It was better that it was Clint, of course. The two of them needed each other now more than ever. She wondered vaguely, almost clinically if she hadn’t neglected to notice when the Avengers circled around Clint, that for a time, Nick was on his own. Had that contributed? She’d seen Sitwell and his wife along with Hill rally around him but that likely wasn’t the support he had needed. They’d closed ranks and left one of their own—because he was, no matter what Stark had to say about it—out in the cold.

One day, she’d make amends to that point too. When she found the time.

And after she found Clint.

That had been easier than she expected. She found him outside, near the fire exit, sucking on a cigarette. “Where did you get that?”

“One of the caterers. And spare me the lecture. I think I’m allowed to slip today.”

She couldn’t quite come up with a convincing argument against it. The usual ‘those things will kill you’ spiel was in poor taste, obviously. She sat down beside him and crossed her legs. “They still smell.”

“Yes they do.”

“You know he… never actually quit, right?”

“I know. Nick knows. I’m pretty sure Phil knew we knew.” Clint took another drag and was ready for a fight when the cigarette was pulled from his fingers. Natasha saw the half aborted pull back as Nick blew a cloud of smoke out and stomped on the cigarette.

He studied the two of them for a second before his eye settled on Natasha. “Thank you.”

She didn’t have to ask what he was thanking her for. “It was a good speech.”

“And he did quit.” Nick’s eye went down to the butt on the ground. “It just never really held for long.” The laugh that left him was one of the saddest she’d ever heard from him. This entire situation had turned a few truths about her world on their head. Nick was the pillar. That was what she’d thought. He would be there for Clint and Phil no matter what happened and she’d been glad of that.

She nearly shook her head that it never occurred to her that someone might have to hold him up too. He was Director Fury after all. The idea was preposterous. “Shouldn’t at least one of you be in there?”

“Linda and Jasper are doing door duty. The people that don’t know won’t know the difference.” Nick sighed and leaned against the wall. “And most of them are already here. Sitwell’s on high alert for Phil’s sister.”

Clint ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t see her at the service.”

“Me either.” Nick let the words out but he seemed well enough aware of his lack of clear vision at the service. “Doesn’t mean she won’t show up though.”

“Should I...”

Clint wrapping his arms around Nick cut Natasha’s words off. She stepped back, giving them the privacy—or at least the illusion of it—they needed. She did overhear Clint telling Nick he’d deal with her if she showed up. “You’ve done enough. You don’t need to deal with her shit today of all days, okay? Just let me do it.”

Natasha was forcibly reminded of a conversation she had with Coulson back when she joined SHIELD. She’d said something about homes away from home and he’d gotten quiet. She assumed she’d done something wrong, triggered some memory or something he didn’t want to talk about but when she looked at him, he wasn’t showing her any of that. He simply nodded. “ _For some, that’s possible. SHIELD is my home._ ”

She’d done a little digging after that. Found the sister, the parents. The comfortable Chicago neighborhood that looked ideal for raising a family. Obviously, none of that had worked out. It hadn’t taken long for her to put the pieces—some of them anyway—together but she respected the man enough to not bring it up again. She’d learned long before that that some people didn’t like to cross the streams—as Clint often put it—and for others, one stream had dried up completely.

She found herself wondering if this sister would show up and how much of a mess she’d make.

Watching Clint and Nick hold each other up, she was willing to do anything she needed to do to keep the mess to a minimum.

~*~*~*~*~

Clint found himself walking at a brisk pace toward a man doing the same. Sitwell didn’t generally let things get to him, which could only mean one thing. “Let me guess…”

“She’s here. I’d… advise you to get there quickly. Linda might kill her.”

“I’m not going to lie to you. I’d like to see that.” He reached back, squeezing Nick’s hand and heading forward again. The words were out of his mouth before he’d even reached the two women in the doorway. “For God’s sake, Ruth, not today, alright? You can be an angry, hateful person any other day. But not today.”

“Clint.” Ruth Meyers, nee Coulson straightened up and held her chin high. She was so little like her brother in so many ways, but that stance was too familiar to ignore. Apparently, confidence in your bearing was genetic. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“No, you’re not and we both know it. But unlike you, I don’t go to memorial services to pick fights.”

“I wouldn’t dream of—“

“No, you’d dream of getting me and Nick as far away from all of this as possible. You’d dream of burying your brother in some church that he didn’t buy into. You’d dream of making it all about your grieving sister act.” He crossed his arms and felt Nick’s hand on his shoulder. It was a warning. If he pushed too hard, she’d cause a scene. Or Nick would. “But that’s not how this is going to work.”

She opened her mouth again, eyes narrowing on Nick as Clint pulled his arm around him. Ruth had never been Nick’s biggest fan. She’d screamed in the middle of O’Hare International Airport that he was the reason Phil was ‘the way he was’ and that he was the worst thing to ever happen to her brother or her family. That had been the last time any of them had been invited to the Coulson family Christmas.

It had been five years ago. And it had been a hell of a first visit on Clint’s part.

Ruth tolerated Clint because she assumed he was just another victim of Nick’s bad influence. Nothing was going to convince her otherwise and no amount of trying was going to change that. Phil had said it himself.

Clint pointed toward the hall where everyone had gathered and glared right back at her. “Those are your brother’s friends. His family in a way you haven’t been in five years, if you ever were. You’re on our turf now, so either behave like a half way decent human being or get the hell out.”

She looked them both up and down, sniffing dismissively. “He could have done so much better for himself. He could have had a full life…’

“He did have a full life.” Nick’s voice filled Clint’s ear. “As for doing better, well… in my case, yeah. He could have.” He tightened his hold on Clint. “But he didn’t want to. He loved us, Mrs. Meyers. And we loved him. I would hope that at least is a common point between all of us.”

“You and I have nothing in common.” She spit the words out like they burned in her mouth. “Director.”

“Then you don’t have a reason to be here.” Nick pulled Clint back toward the gathering before Clint felt his hands start to shake.

“You know everyone probably heard at least parts of that, right?”

“Don’t care.” Nick leaned on him a little more. “I’m tired of dancing around this shit. I just want to say goodbye to him properly.”

“I know.” Clint rested his head on Nick’s shoulder. “Me too.”

~*~*~*~*~

The air got colder and the sun went down. Clint had stayed behind, saying he needed a few minutes after they’d lowered the casket. Nick had given his shoulder a squeeze and done the standard seeing people off routine. He managed to stay civil with Ruth, but she didn’t make it easy.

That had been hours ago and Nick stood, just behind Clint with his arms wrapped firmly around him as they stared at the cold grey stone. “It’s real now.” Clint’s voice broke a little as he spoke. “I could just… before he could just be on a mission or…”

“I know.” Nick rested his head against Clint’s and held him a little tighter. Clint’s hands closed over his and held tight as Nick felt himself sag under the weight of the day. 

Clint turned enough to be able to see Nick’s face without taking the grave stone out of view. “I’m not going to fight you on this.” He swallowed hard and a shiver worked up his spine. “Get him back.”

“I will. We will. I swear to God, Clint we aren’t going to leave him here.” Nick wrapped his coat around both of them as the shivers grew and Clint pressed closer. He pressed a soft kiss to Clint’s temple and held him close until the shivering stopped. “Go wait in the car. Turn the heat up.” He kissed him again and loosened his grip. 

It was a testament to how tired and worn down Clint was that he didn’t argue. He lifted his head and pressed a kiss to Nick’s lips before pulling away and wrapping his arms around himself. He moved toward the stone, pressing his hand to it for a moment before leaving Nick alone in the growing cold.

He mirrored Clint’s touch to the rock and the wind picked up, whipping his coat up around him. “Nobody left behind, Phil.” He spoke softly. “I promised you a long time ago I’d never leave you behind. I’m not going to start now.”

As he stepped back and wrapped his coat tighter around himself, he made note to call Banner and Stark in the morning. The sooner they got this project off the ground, the better.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life moves on, slowly and slightly unsurely.

Two weeks after the funeral, Nick stopped sleeping in the guest room. Three days after that Clint joined him, muttering that he didn’t like sleeping alone anyway. A week after that, Nick forced himself to wash the sheets, taking away the last trace of Phil’s shampoo and aftershave from the pillow case.

Clint still slept in the middle of the bed though. 

Their at-home-routine settled in again to some degree. Things that were usually Phil’s domain got done slowly and usually as privately as possible. Neither of them wanted to put their own grief and pain and guilt on the other. 

Natasha asked Clint about it first. “The council’s on his ass again. They’re screaming for our blood like we were the ones that wanted to nuke Manhattan but he’s running interference on that and everything else he’s got to do. Nat, he’s got more important things to worry about than me.”

“I’m not going to drop one more thing in his lap, Hill. He’s got enough to think over and deal with without my problems on top of it all.” Maria nodded and briskly left Nick’s office after that. He was self aware enough to know that while everyone was worried about Clint ducking out of his sessions, Nick would be the one that Dr. Samson would likely have to corner in his office between meetings. It wasn’t for lack of want to figure some of the shit out. It was a lack of time and too much to do to get things back where they should be that got in his way.

Clint found himself voicing this to SHIELD’s top shrink in session number three. “I don’t know. I’m worried about him.”

“Director Fury?”

“Yeah.” Clint picked at the arm of the chair he was in. He had managed to avoid most of the Nick related conversations he’d have to have so far. He’d kept the personal stuff limited to him and Phil, which felt wrong and a little hurtful because Nick was so damn important to him but what if Dr. Big Shot didn’t get it? What if he looked at Clint and thought… well, what a lot of people would think, no doubt. “I know he’s got next to no time to himself anyway but…” 

“You don’t think he’s coping?”

Clint actually laughed. The idea that the end of the world would shake Nick to the point of not being able to do his job was hilarious. “He’s coping just fine.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

_He promised he’d deal with this shit too. He isn’t sleeping. He thinks he can science-magic Phil back to us._ “It’s just a gut feeling.”

“Are you two close?”

“You could say that.”

“Are you dodging a straight answer for a reason?”

“No.”

“Is this a clearance thing?”

“No.”

“Agent Barton…”

“Look, Doc. It’s…” Clint contemplated actually just coming out and saying it, “complicated.”

“Why?”

“Because…” _I don’t think you’d understand. I don’t think you’d take it seriously. I think you’d tell me what the three of us had was unhealthy or what Nick and I have now is._ “Because we’ve known each other a long time.”

“And you were both close to Agent Coulson?”

“That’s… part of it.” Again, he wanted to say it and just get it out of the way. Maybe yell and scream if this shrink thought he had any idea what was best for him. Or for Nick. Especially given the circumstances. Maybe he’d get up and storm out. It occurred to him that maybe he was putting the cart in front of the horse but it wouldn’t be the first time someone didn’t take him seriously because of who he was sleeping with. “Not many people would get it. How things are around here.”

“There’s a level of comradery then?”

“Yeah.” And it wasn’t a lie. Not really. It was there in that way. They did understand things nobody outside of the upper levels of SHIELD would get. “We’ve seen each other through a lot lately.”

“That’s good. It sounds trite, I know but you need a support network right now.”

“We all do.”

“Of course.” Samson nodded, conceding the point. “Some people find caring for others to be very therapeutic.”

“That sounds familiar.” It sounded like both of them. Nick and Phil. Whenever something went to hell, they got through it by pulling everyone else up too. “Look everybody’s been good lately. Nat, Rogers… even Stark. I’m just worried that when I have all that, Nick’s got…” Clint sighed and let his head fall back against the back of the chair. “I don’t know.”

“Director Fury’s grief is not your responsibility, Clint. Just like yours isn’t his.”

That was it. Clint actually laughed. “Doc, if you knew everything you’d feel really stupid right now.”

“Then tell me.”

“It’s not what you think. Or what you’re going to think…”

“I don’t think anything. You haven’t told me anything yet.”

“Bullshit. People make assumptions. Even highly educated SHIELD shrinks. It’s human nature.” Again Clint watched Dr. Samson nod in assertion. “Okay. I don’t think I’d be here talking to you if Nick hadn’t told me to.”

“He ordered you here.”

“No. It’s just that if anyone other than him…” _or Phil,_ “had brought it up, I would have bitched and moaned and dug in my heels.”

“So you respect his judgment.”

“I trust him.”

“Some people would call that foolish.”

“Some people are fucking idiots.” Clint felt his temper eating away at his control. He was determined that he wasn’t going to snap on this guy. He didn’t know and Clint hadn’t told him. “Look, we’re tight. We’ve held each other up through all of this.”

“I’ve heard that. What you did for him at Agent Coulson’s funeral—“

“Somebody had to.”

“And that somebody was you.”

“Why not me?” Clint scrubbed his hands over his face. “Everybody forgets he’s just a guy. He’s human. Shit gets to him too.”

“Of course. It’s good you’re there to help him. I’m not denying that. I just want to make sure you’re making your own well being a priority.”

“It is a priority. To me and to him.”

The silence stretched out between them for a moment. Clint could almost hear the wheels turning in the doctor’s head. “Clint, are you and the director sleeping together?”

“Yes.”

“Given you relationship with Agent Coulson, do you think that’s a wise choice?”

Clint laughed again and looked at his watch. “You know what, Doc. I’ll let you ponder that one for another week. Our time seems to be up for today.” He stood, picking up his coat and walking out of the office.

It took several blocks worth of semi-fresh air to get him to start thinking he might have just caused more problems than he thought.

~*~*~*~*~

“Tony, it’s possible that this is all strictly theoretical anyway.” Bruce took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. They’d been bouncing ideas around Stark’s lab for nearly a month. There had been a few moments when things seemed to start coming together but nothing had solidified yet.

Eric’s readings from when Thor had taken Loki back to Asgard were still their greatest source of inspiration. “I still think if we focus in on that… background noise. That vibration, we’ll get something.”

“If we knew what we were isolating…” Eric shuffled through a few pages on the desk nearest him. “It’s not any kind of frequency or energy we’ve encountered.”

“Which is why it’s probably going to be useful!” Tony’s pacing pace sped and he was nearly circling the room at an impressive speed. “The Foster theory—“

“Didn’t have anything to do with this. Not really. It was a fixed point. A to B. Not jumping the way Fury wants us to.”

“But it is the same principle, mechanically.” Tony stopped, finally, and grabbed a pad of paper. “It’s a slide rule. We just need to slide something backwards on it.”

“And try not to get the rulers mixed up in the process while they’re all tied together and spinning. There’s no way to tell one time line from another.” Bruce put his glasses down and glanced over at the pad Tony was scribbling on, then back to his own notes on the as of yet unnamed energy they’d picked up. Tony was bucking for Timey Whimey particles but so far, it hadn’t stuck. Despite his efforts and a stretch of time where he wouldn’t actually contribute unless they went with it. Bruce had laughed but he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life explaining Timey Whimey particles to every major science publication in the world. The Hulk was bad enough.

He zoned out for a moment and wondered how long they’d been in the lab this time. The last time Ms. Potts—call me Pepper, she’d said but he’d get to that eventually--dropped off food had to be hours ago. His last bite of pizza confirmed that. He didn’t think Tony had quite processed the timeframe as he sucked down half a cup of cold coffee.

The soft ‘hmm’ from Eric brought Bruce back to the problem at hand. He watched as the older man tapped at one of the consoles. “What if we’re already looking at a marker? A…” he frowned and waved his hand a little. “A subtle difference between the strings?”

“The background noise.” Tony nodded and changed direction so fast, Bruce was pretty sure he was already defying the laws of physics. “You think maybe it’s the frequency for the string we live on?”

“Maybe. Or one that happened to cross ours while Thor and Loki were travelling.”

“Until we learn more about the… frequency… energy—whatever it is—there’s no way to know if it’s connected to this corner of the universe. Or if we can track it.” Bruce started shuffling through his notes again. It was an interesting idea. “Or how we’d go about doing that.”

“Well, I’m not about to let whoever does all this travelling just hop around until they find the right string to walk on.” Tony was already sketching—if that was the right word for his holographic images—a diagram on how he thought it might come together. “Unless it’s me. That might be fun. I will completely volunteer for the test run.”

“Tony…”

“Okay, okay.” He fiddled with a few of his sketched strings, twisting them around his fingers as he thought. “We need more scans. More data to tell us if that background energy was an anomaly or if it’s tied to this timeline…”

“Or if it’s something completely unrelated.”

“Well yes. There’s that too.”

“But we don’t have the tessaract to power those kinds of tests.”

Tony smirked a little. “We have something based on it though. Think that might work if we can boost it up a little?” An image of the arc reactor that powered Stark Tower popped up in the mess of string theory. He rubbed his hands together gleefully and started another set of sketches—obviously a reactor upgrade—at a speed that was impressive, even for Tony. “I’m going to need to know power levels… wouldn’t mind taking another look at the specs on that device that sent Goldilocks and the Daddy Issue Express home too…”

Bruce turned to see Eric chuckle. “I think he’s onto something.”

“What was the first clue?” Bruce chuckled back and watched for another moment as Tony got five different drafts going at once. He shook his head, smile still fully intact. Watching Stark work was an amazing thing to see. “And to think this is all just for the testing phase.” Selvig looked a little shocked by that. “Imagine how he’ll get if we figure this out.” Bruce patted the other man’s shoulder as he considered that slightly terrifying thought. “Let’s see about getting him the power levels he’ll need before he starts foaming at the mouth.”

Eric moved back toward the pile of paper on the other side of the lab, muttering something that Bruce thought sounded like a plan to monitor energy output from Stark’s brain. Given the rate the man was going at, the idea had some validity. Bruce made a mental note to see what they could do about that. As their next project anyway.

~*~*~*~*~

He missed old phones where you could hang up and they’d know you were pissed. Tech was great but it lost some of the expression of rage that made it easier to get on with one’s day. As it was, he was reduced to tossing the thing on his desk and huffing.

He had another call coming in any minute. The World Security Council tended to be prompt or early so he wasn’t taking any chances by getting up. After that was the meeting with medical about requisitions and post-emergency reassessment of protocols. He was also going to bring up some of the tech they had said could be useful in later emergencies. Might as well see if they had anything in their banks that might help if they managed to get Phil back. And then he had to hear reports from Hill, Sitwell, and five on the ground team leaders.

Then maybe he could manage some lunch. During the ten meetings he had after that.

When his door opened he couldn’t quite contain the long suffering sigh that left his lips. “Hill, if it’s another set of budget concerns from Senator Stern tell him to go fuck himself on his calculator.”

“I will certainly pass that along to Deputy Director Hill when I see her again.”

“Now is not the time, Doctor.” Nick didn’t look up from the file he was reviewing.

“Actually, now is the perfect time, Director.” The man closed the door and moved into his office. “Your assistant and Maria have kindly cleared some time in your schedule for me.”

“That’s out of line, Samson.”

“Maybe, but you’ve been rescheduling appointments for a few months now. I figured it was my turn.” Leonard Samson was not easily avoided. It had been why Nick had approved his recruitment in the first place. In that moment, he was regretting that choice. The doctor sat down across from him and waited until Nick lifted his head. “Something came up with Agent Barton that I would like to discuss with you.”

“Oh? Doesn’t that break doctor patient confidentiality?”

“It’s about you.”

“I don’t have all day, Doctor.”

“He mentioned that. He’s concerned.” Samson leaned in, elbows planted on his knees. “I’m concerned that he’s focusing on you as a way to delay dealing with his own feelings.”

“I don’t think—“

“And I’m concerned both of you may be using each other as a crutch in the absence of Agent Coulson.”

Nick sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Agent Coulson’s death has been hard on both of us. We’re dealing as best we can. Keeping an eye out for each other. I didn’t think that was a bad thing.”

“It isn’t, in and of itself. That’s not where my concern really lies, Director.” He sighed and shifted a little in his seat. Nick couldn’t quite tell if it was an act to get him to underestimate the doctor or if he was truly uncomfortable. “Now, I haven’t talked to you for your perspective on this but I think I can make a pretty safe guess. The two of you both needed comfort after losing someone close to you. That’s perfectly understandable. Healthy even.”

Nick nodded. He didn’t think he liked where this was going.

“But starting a relationship so soon after—“

Nick’s eyebrow shot up at that. “What?”

“You and Agent Barton are sleeping together, aren’t you?”

“Yes. We are. I don’t see—“

“I think starting this with him at such a vulnerable stage of his recovery—“

“Starting what, exactly?” Nick crossed his arms and stared at the other man

Samson paused and looked confused for a moment. His fingers twitched like he wanted to consult his notes. “Your relationship with Agent Barton?”

“Our relationship is well past the starting stage, Doctor. It started six years ago.”

He watched the wrinkle between Samson’s eyes grow deeper and the man finally gave in and reached for the note pad he had with him, flipping pages until he found what he was looking for. “Agent Barton said he and Agent Coulson had been involved for six years.”

“They were.”

The wrinkle grew and he started flipping again. “He said you were close…”

“To Agent Coulson?” Nick nodded. “We were together for eighteen years. Is that close enough for you?”

“But…” The pieces must have slotted into place because he suddenly closed the note pad and let out a small “oh.”

“Yes.”

Samson chuckled, shaking his head. “He said if I knew everything I’d feel stupid for some of the things I said.”

“Was he right?”

“Yes.” He had the good form to look as embarrassed as he was no doubt feeling, anyway. Nick took that as a sign that the chuckle was more at himself than at either Nick or Clint.

“Was there something else you needed then, Doctor?” Nick reached for his pen, hoping to squeeze a little more paperwork into the unexpected break he’d been given from the endless meetings.

“I could ask you the same thing, Director.” Samson didn’t move to get up at all. “Clint is concerned you aren’t getting the support you need. He has the Avengers, Agent Romanov.”

“And I’m glad. I wish I had more hours in a day to help him through this.”

“He feels the same about you.” He leaned forward again. “Director, to be with someone for that long and lose them is hard on anyone. It requires a readjustment to one’s daily routine, expectations… everything.”

“I am aware of that.” Nick put his pen down. “I’m dealing, Doctor. I took the leave that is mandated for situations like this. I am grieving in my own time. And I don’t need a full team of superheroes watching me do it.”

“I can imagine they’ve got some interesting tendencies but I doubt emotional voyeurism is one of them.” Samson shrugged a little. “At least in this case.”

“You’re the expert.” Nick sighed and sat back in his chair. “If you’re going to ask if I’m sleeping or if I’m feeling guilty or off balance or depressed, get it over with so I can go back to rebuilding this organization and half of New York City.”

He nodded and went into rapid fire mode. “Alright. Are you sleeping?”

“Probably not as much as I should be.”

“Are you feeling guilty?”

“Yes.”

“Off balance?”

“A little.”

“Depressed?”

“Clinically? Probably not. But I lost my one good eye. My partner. So I’m not planning any parades about all this.”

“You have another partner.”

“And he’s done more for me than I could ask for. I’m doing my best to repay him in kind.” Before Samson could get a word in about that, Nick continued. “I don’t look at it as a zero sum game, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just want to make sure I’m there if and when he needs me.”

“And to accomplish that, you’re working yourself harder than usual while here.”

“And it’s still not working.”

“I think it is. But even you can’t keep this up forever.”

“With any luck, Doc, I won’t have to.” He left it at that. There was no way he’d say another word about that to a shrink. He wasn’t entire sure he wasn’t off his rock thinking he could bring a dead man back but he didn’t want confirmation. Not when Banner and Stark seemed so damn excited about the project. Clint had said they’d been delivering food to the labs for days and the level of tech talk was incomprehensible. That seemed promising. Let Samson think he meant things would settle down when the reconstruction projects got fully underway. Or that when they got their staff up to the levels they needed to be at, things would level out. “Is there anything else?”

“I’d like you to come in with Agent Barton.” It wasn’t a question. Samson made that clear. Nick nodded. “At least a few times. It might be helpful for both of you to know what the other is thinking about all this.”

“I’ll be there when I can.”

“I will get Deputy Director Hill to intervene again, if I have to.”

Nick frowned. It was just a little one. Most people wouldn’t catch it. He had the feeling Dr. Samson was not most people. “That won’t be necessary.” He glanced at the time and frowned a little more. “Doctor, there is a meeting I’d rather not leave to other people in the next ten minutes. Are we done?”

“We are.” Samson stood. “For now.”

“Then get the hell out of my office and let me work.” The man moved toward the door. “And send Hill in here on your way out.” Nick went back to the pile of paperwork as the door closed behind the doctor. 

He let the things he’d said run through his mind. He knew he was pushing harder than he should be. Most of that was just because he didn’t have Phil there to trust with the more sensitive issues. There wasn’t anyone around that he trusted the way he’d trusted Phil. Hill got the job done, of course but she had a way of bulldozing over egos. He liked that about her but it wasn’t going to work with every situation. Sitwell was more than capable of dealing with the egos, but Nick wasn’t quite sure yet if he’d fit the way somebody needed to.

He wasn’t Phil, after all and Nick felt it was more than unfair to try to put that on anybody. Especially with half the world’s powerhouses circling like vultures.

At home though, things were settling into a new routine. Or at least he thought they were. If Clint was worried about him, maybe things weren’t as settled as he thought. He promised himself he’d sit down with Clint, pick up the good take out and figure this out. 

As he was planning that conversation out, the door to his office opened again. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

Hill stood at parade rest in front of his desk as he sat back. “I did.”

“What about?”

“If you ever pull a stunt like that again, Hill, I will ship you off to the mouth of hell for the rest of your natural born life. Do I make myself clear?”

She nodded once, letting him know with a look that while she appreciated the breach in protocol, she didn’t regret it and would likely do it again. Mouth of hell or not. “Crystal, sir.”

“Dismissed.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently feelings need to be discussed, Tony leaps without looking and things start to fall into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long. Sadly, flooding and illness tends to kill the muse. :\ Hopefully this is worth the wait.
> 
> Thanks as always to my quick and wonderful beta, ladydeathfaerie.

Clint beat him home and was channel surfing when he came through the door. “The good take out?” Nick set the bag down on the coffee table and Clint ripped through the bag. “What’d I do wrong?”

“Nothing. I had a talk with Samson today.” Nick sat down next to him before Clint could totally freeze up. “Stop it. There’s nothing wrong.” He kissed his temple softly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were worried about me?”

“Because… well…” Clint got up, digging dishes out of the cupboards and coming back. “Would you have listened?”

“I…” Nick took a plate and opened one of the containers. “Okay, you got me there. I’m just not sure who else I can trust to keep the WSC off your ass.”

“My ass?”

“The Avengers. They want a scapegoat. You guys are the easy mark.” Nick wrapped his arm around Clint, pulling him closer. “I won’t let them take the shot. I’ve got enough to counter with if they try.”

“They tried to nuke Manhattan. I’m sure the press would love that one.”

“Exactly. It might not get quite as good a spin as it would have if—” Nick shook his head and dished out some chow mein onto his and Clint’s plates. “We’ll make do.” He handed Clint the plate, holding his own out as Clint started in on the Kung Pao chicken. “Samson came to see me today.”

“Oh.” Clint put down his plate. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have over dinner but it didn’t seem like he had a whole lot of say in the matter. “Look, I know I kind of lost it on him and if he doesn’t want to put up with my shit, fine. But I got fucking tired of dodging the fact that the three of us were together. That this isn’t just about me and my Loki shit.”

“Clint…”

“No, I know. I know people don’t get this. But the Avengers know… half of SHIELD has it figured out since—“ He stopped and swallowed. “Part of me is terrified that now they know you’re human… somebody’s going to sneak in under the radar and—“

“Hey, stop.” Nick reached out, putting his plate down and pulling Clint closer. “I’m not going anywhere. Nobody’s good enough to sneak up on me.” He kissed Clint’s lips softly. “Except you.”

“Well, I want to keep you around.” It took a second to realize he was shaking a little. Nick’s arms tightened around him and he took a deep breath. “But what if it’s not up to me. Jesus, Nick I tried to kill you. Twice. How can you—“

“You didn’t. Loki did.”

“But it was me. I still knew everything I know. I still thought the same way but… he took away the parts—“

“Clint…”

“No, he took away the stuff that was supposed to be yours and Phil’s. The good stuff…” Clint felt himself shake again even as Nick pressed a kiss to his temple. “The thing is… what if it happened again? What if I wake up and you’re gone too?”

“C’mere.” Nick wrapped him up tight in his arms, pulling him so close Clint had to crawl into his lap. “I am not going anywhere. You hear me? I am not going to let anybody take you away again.”

Clint relaxed against him, nuzzling his neck a little before a slow sigh left him. “I’m not going to hold you to that. We both know we can’t always stop bad things from happening.” He felt Nick tense. “Stop. It wasn’t your fault either.”

“I told him to go.”

“It was his job, Nick.”

“I know that.”

Clint reached up, cupping both his cheeks. “Nick, I know you know. But feeling it and knowing it are two different things.” He smiled a little, pressing a kiss to his lips. “See, I did learn something from Samson.” 

Nick managed a half hearted smile. “I proud of you. I thought you’d fight me tooth and nail on this one.”

“No, you were right. I need to work through what happened. That I wasn’t really there when… well, when you both needed me.” He kissed Nick again, slowly deepening it. “Even after… taking off with Nat and Rogers…”

“You saved the world.”

“Maybe.”

“I saw the reports. You did.”

“Well I should put that experience to good use and save you a little, shouldn’t I?”

“I don’t—“

“Yeah, you do. You aren’t sleeping. Not really. And if Sitwell, Hill and I didn’t make sure there was food in your office, I doubt you’d eat either.” He cupped Nick’s cheeks again, and sighed. “And this time travel stuff—“

“It’s not what you think it is.”

“Then what is it?”

“Loki got a win on us. A big one. He took you but we got you back. I don’t want him to have a single victory over us. Ever.” Nick kissed him again. “If I have to move time and space to do that…”

“So this isn’t just because it’s Phil.”

“That’s part of it.” There was no point in denying that.

Clint shook his head a little. “What’s the rest of it? I’m trying to get this. I want him back too but… he’s going to think you’ve lost your mind if we pull this off.” He rested his forehead against Nick’s. “Any idea how you’re going to do this without the universe collapsing?”

“I’ve got an idea or two.”

~*~*~*~*~

Tony leaned back in his chair, watching the model JARVIS had mocked up of what would happen when they put their plans into action. They’d already managed a few practical tests. The first apple experiment had been unsettling. The pork chop had been revolting and Tony swore he’d never again consume anything pig related, but they’d moved past that point.

He’d even been swayed back by bacon.

The point was though, he was pretty sure it was time to send something more substantial than dinner a couple minutes back or forward through time. He wasn’t picky, though going forward, from what they could gather made it easier to fix a point on the timeline to send stuff to. Obviously a stable portal would have to be created and held open eventually but until things stopped bursting into flames or turning inside out, the easier trajectory seemed prudent. At least that was what Bruce and Selvig kept telling him when he volunteered for the next test.

“What we’ve got at the moment is quantum barbeque.” Bruce sighed as he walked Director Fury into the lab. “But we’re making progress.” Bruce caught Tony’s eye for a moment before he continued. Tony wanted information on what they’d be sending through and bringing back but Bruce had specifically said that his usual way of finding out might not be as effective this time. “It would help to know what we would be transporting…”

Fury watched him for a moment, considering his options no doubt. He turned that look on Tony a moment later. “A small team. Medical staff and equipment.”

“So a couple agents, a medical team and they’ll be coming back with Agent Agent, right?” Tony moved closer.

Nick stared at him for far longer than any normal person would be able to stand without squirming. “Agent Coulson is our target for extraction, yes.”

“How are you even going to work that paperwork out?” Tony shook his head and moved back toward his workbench.

“That’s my problem. Give me a way to get him back and let me worry about the rest.”

“The thing is,” Bruce cleared his throat bringing their attention back to him, “We aren’t sure yet if it’s the temporal displacement that is causing the burns and… other unfortunate side effects, or if it’s the method of travel.”

“Yeah, but the longer we wait the farther we have to travel, the bigger the risk.” Tony shouted over his shoulder.

“There is that.” Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re close. I know that much.”

“What we need is a giant temporal oven mitt.” Tony shouted again, chuckling to himself.

Fury shook his head and focused back in on Banner. “Do you have a rough time table for me?”

Tony blocked them out as he studied their data from the last test. He was sure the answer was there. The tweak it would take to make it all come together was staring him in the face. He knew it and frankly, it was pissing him off that he had yet to find the answer. “JARVIS? Exploded view of the device.”

He picked and tested and adjusted randomly, checking the effects. A tweak here, a tightened bolt there. He lost track of Bruce’s conversation with Fury entirely as he lost himself in the mechanics of the portal. It would work. It just needed…

“There!” His hands moved over the components at a blinding rate. He had it. It would work. There was no doubt in his mind that he had just made the biggest breakthrough in quantum physics—well, with some help—in history. As he engaged the device and the shot of energy flew out from it, spinning and whirling into a small portal, there was no doubt in his mind that he’d done it.

The last thing he heard before he stepped through was Fury and Bruce screaming at him.

There was no comparison to the feeling of travelling through the space time continuum. Tony was pretty sure that was because he was the first—as far as he knew anyway—human to do it. He noted for a half a second to talk to Thor when and if he ever came back and compare this to travelling on the Bifrost. The initial pull was familiar; far too much like coming back through Loki’s hole in the sky for Tony’s liking but it wasn’t the time to give into that. He pushed it aside and started making mental notes. It was like slipping under the water in a too-hot bath, licking a 9 volt battery with your whole body and the fact that he was still alive and not extra crispy was a good sign that he had been right.

He went blind for a second before the lab came back into focus. He was ten feet away from where he’d been—they could work on accuracy now that they knew this would work—and the room was a flurry of motion. It looked like a med team was on its way in, no doubt thanks to the good Director. Bruce and Erik were about a second from running every test in the book. Several lab assistants looking panicked. “So, I figured it out.”

Fury caught him first. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“That I figured it out.” Tony shrugged. “I’m here. It worked. It’ll need some tweaking but I...”

“Could have killed yourself doing that!” Erik and Bruce came up next. Erik doing his best Dad voice. Tony wondered vaguely if that ever actually worked on anyone. It didn’t work with him, or Bruce. He was pretty sure the astrophysicist, Foster he’d been working with wouldn’t buy it either. She had the same no-bullshit vibe Pepper had.

“It worked.”

“Your sleeve’s scorched.” Bruce sounded fine, but Tony had to wonder how long that would hold. “And you could have at least taken some measurements instead of just jumping into a potential portal of death.” 

Tony motioned toward the machine that was still sitting on the work table. “We could try it again.”

“No.” That came from all three of them but Fury continued. “Not before medical checks you over.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but he could see thoughts chasing each other around in Fury’s. He needed to know the medical effects of the travel so he would know what to tell the med team to expect and prepare for. Tony got that but he couldn’t quite keep his snark to himself. “Alright, fine. Who gets the honor of telling me to turn my head and cough?”

~*~*~*~*~

Maria almost stumbled—not that anyone caught it—as she walked after Director Fury and read through the file he’d handed her. “They did it?”

“Yes.”

“Sir… we’re not…” Maria sighed and stopped before making sure they were alone in the corridor. “We aren’t seriously considering doing this, are we?”

“Yes, Hill. We are.”

“Sir…” She paused again and lowered her voice. “Nick, this is crazy. If you were anyone else on the planet you’d be locked up for suggesting this!” She took a deep breath and checked over her shoulder. “What do you think he’d have to say about this if you pull this off?”

“I think he’ll tell me I’m crazy. I think he’ll tell me it wasn’t worth it. I think he might just hate me for it.” For a moment, he let his guard down and Maria watched as he tried to keep the persona intact. “But we will not let Loki take something as integral to this organization away from us.”

“Us or you?”

“Both.” He straightened up and was every bit the Director again. “If you’re asking whether I’m compromised on this, Hill, I’m not. I’m invested, yes. But I can see this clearly.”

She didn’t bother with protocol. They were past that point in the conversation. “If you can see it clearly, why isn’t any of this bothering you? Nick, you’re basically playing god…”

“How exactly do you know what I’m thinking about this? Yeah, it bothers me that I had to do this. But we need him back. There is a hole here and it needs to be filled. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re not wrong.” Maria nodded. “But I have to wonder if you’d be doing this if it were… me. Or Sitwell. Or Romanov.”

“I think I would.”

“With this much… tenacity?”

“Are you asking if the fact that I spent damn near twenty years with Phil is influencing me?” Nick sighed as she nodded once. “I’m not going to lie to you. It is. It always does. The same way the six years I’ve spent with Clint does. But tell me, have you ever once thought that affected my judgment to the point where the job didn’t get done?”

Maria felt she owed it to him to really think about it before she answered. They didn’t tend to agree on how things should be run. That was part of the reason she had the job she did. She was there to make sure that in the darker moments, when things were far more touch and go than usual, he didn’t go to far and she didn’t hold back too much. There were disagreements, friction but it worked. It worked especially well when Coulson was around to moderate, but they’d been working out a new system since…

She had to wonder if there was anyone in SHIELD’s higher ranks that wasn’t compromised at this point when it came to Phil Coulson.

She thought about it. Really thought about it. Had their personal relationships ever interfered with the job? Fury hadn’t hesitated to send Coulson to the armory. He hadn’t hesitated—though she could only imagine what it cost him—to do what had to be done to get a bunch of cry baby drama queens to do what needed to be done. He kept his head and helped save the world in a moment most people would fall apart.

“No, sir. As far as I’ve seen your personal life has never unduly influenced your judgment.”

“So what makes you think it is now?”

“Because…” She took a deep breath and stood a little straighter. “Because, honestly, how couldn’t it? I don’t think it’s possible to lose someone…” she paused, trying to decide if continuing was the best option, “to watch someone you love die and not be compromised by it in some way.”

Nick nodded once. “And this is how you think it’s affecting me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Talk to Clint before you make that decision, Hill.” He started off again toward medical. “This project is black tab until I say so.”

“Yes, sir.” She watched him go until he turned a corner, wondering vaguely if she was right. If he’d finally lost it and was using SHIELD connections to do something purely personal. She turned on her heel, flipping through the file on Stark, Banner and Selvig’s creation and fought not to ask herself one very simple question that would no doubt have an incredibly complicated answer.

Would she, in the same situation, do anything different than what Fury was doing?

She sighed, rubbing her temple to stave off a headache before she conceded to herself that, yes. If she loved someone that much. If it was in her power to move heaven and hell…

She’d have done it too.

~*~*~*~*~

Nick took a few deep breaths before knocking on his chief of medical staff’s office door. Hill’s opinion held more weight than he ever let her know and the things she’d said to him made him think a little harder on what he was doing. What would Phil have to say about all this? He was pretty sure he’d hear about it at length eventually. He wasn’t sure how extreme the reaction would be. But knowing Phil was alive; knowing they’d managed to take back what Loki took from SHIELD and from him and Clint, even if Phil kicked his ass out for it, it was worth it. All that hinged on whether or not the woman behind that door could help him. He had at least four progress reports that he was pretty sure meant she could. But getting it from her directly was the only way to know for sure.

And it wouldn’t hurt to have her on his side with this. Nayana Sarin was a powerful ally. It was part of the reason she had the job she did. The other part was that she was the leading micro-cardio surgeon on the planet. It was the second part he was counting on. “Director Fury, I am absolutely sure you have better things to do than haunt my doorway.”

Nick chuckled and opened the door. “Always a pleasure, Doctor.”

“Please, Nicholas. Flattery will get you nowhere.” She smirked and leaned on her desk. “You never stop by for no reason. What do you need?”

“I have a hypothetical for you, Nayana.”

“Nothing at SHIELD is ever hypothetical.” One eyebrow crept up and she smiled. “So I ask again, Director. What do you need?”

Nick set the files down on her desk. “I need to know if these projects of yours are going to be viable in the next three months.”

She looked at the files and snorted. “They could be if I had twice the funding I currently have.”

“Done.”

“Excuse me?” He was fairly certain that was the first time he’d ever heard her show any sort of shock. That included the time when HYDRA ambushed a dinner party she was throwing and she ended up stitching his bicep back together in her kitchen.

“You’ll have what you need.”

“That’s very generous.” She looked at the files again. “Cardiac reconstruction… Lung tissue repair… nanotech… Nicholas, if I didn’t know better…” 

“You sure you want to know better?”

‘Well I don’t have all this clearance for nothing now, do I?”

“It’s black tab.”

“I’ll be of more help if you tell me what you’re up to.” She sighed. “Though I have a guess.”

“It’s probably wrong.”

“It sounds like you’re doing a post mortem on what happened to Phil.”

“In a way.”

“Alright.” She started typing. “You have the clearance to do that if you wish. I don’t think it’s a good idea…”

“I just need to know if things had been different, if we could have saved him.”

She stared at him for a moment before taking her glasses off. “To what end?”

“Peace of mind.”

“I don’t believe you.” Very few people could stare him down. He knew that. He also knew that Nayana was one of the few that had a fighting chance.

“Very few people ever do.” He shrugged. “Humor me.”

“Should I include the use of this research in any hypothetical treatments?”

“I would appreciate that.”

“Of course you would.” She sighed and put her glasses back on, looking at the screen of her computer. “Patient suffered cardiac or major vascular injuries…” She read the words quietly, more to herself than anything else but when he shifted in his seat, she looked up. “Right… to myself then. Sorry.”

“I’ve seen the reports, Nayana. I was there.”

“That doesn’t mean I should be rubbing it in.”

“Fair enough.”

They sat in silence as she went over the report. Finally she set her glasses down and sighed. “Best case scenario first?”

“Please.”

“If the helicarrier hadn’t been falling out of the sky, and we’d had a full surgical staff on board, and we’d gotten him into surgery immediately with no other patients in serious condition… and the research you’ve decided to fund…” She folded her hands and looked him in the eye. “Yes, there’s a chance we could have saved him.”

“How large a chance?”

“Nick…”

“I need the number, Nayana.”

She shook her head. “40%... 45% on the outside.”

“What do you need to push that number up?”

“Nick, what are you doing?”

“What do you need, Nayana?”

She studied him again, another long suffering sigh leaving her lips. “I’ll have a list for you by the end of the day.”

He stood and nodded. “Thank you.”

“Are you going to tell me what this is about?”

“I’ll make you a deal. Get me the list before three, and I’ll tell you.”

She let out a soft laugh and shook her pen at him. “The rumors are right, Nicholas. You’re an ass.”

“Part of the job.” He shrugged and gave her half a smile.

“It’s not really, by my understanding. It’s just what makes you good at it.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“As you should.” She shuffled a few papers on her desk. “By three. And then you’ll tell me what you’ve got rolling around that brain of yours.” Before he could say anything else. “And yes, I know. Black tab. Don’t lecture me. I don’t know anything anyway. This is just a requisition list.”

He nodded and turned for the door. “Nayana? Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Nick moved out into the hall as he phone buzzed at his hip. He checked the screen, smiling a little at the text Banner had sent him.

_Managed five minutes forward without scorched sleeves. Progress._

Progress indeed. Things were finally starting to come together which meant it was time to figure out how to pull this off without destroying the timeline. Nick already had a plan in mind for that. There was a certain level of irony knowing that the world would be kept safe and Phil could be brought back to them with minimal fuss with just a little bit of paperwork in the right hands.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's safe to say I am the slowest at updating anything at this point. Hopefully... and I know I say that alot but this time I mean it, hopefully the next chapter will come fast on this one's heels.
> 
> Also WARNING, THERE IS SEX IN THIS CHAPTER. Oral and anal. So if that's not something you're interested in, skip the middle of this and head toward the second page break. Though it is emotionally pretty significant.
> 
> As always, thank you to ladydeathfaerie for the quick and awesome beta work.

Bruce typed quickly. There wasn’t much to report aside from the fact that they were as ready as they’d ever be and the entire operation now rested with Fury getting what he needed to get done in place.

_We have opened a portal to the time in question. We’ve been able to observe and pin point that it is in fact our timeline._

He left out that he’d made sure Tony was not in the lab when the observations happened. It seemed for the best. He owed Pepper a good bottle of wine for that little bit of help. Bruce sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. He’d known what they were looking for and what had happened. He’d seen the footage from the security feed. But he hadn’t seen it ground level. He hadn’t known Agent Coulson at all but seeing what that moment did to Director Fury… His fingers hesitated again.

_I understand now. And I’m sorry._

The response came back before he’d fully walked away from the station. It contained all the information Fury had from medical, all the necessary specs on what they’d need to take along on the mission. All the personnel involved. A timetable for when it was all going to happen. The last line however was a little less professional.

_I doubt it. But thank you._

“Are you going to tell me why you turned Pepper loose on me or not?”

Bruce turned to see Tony, mostly relaxed, arms crossed, attempting to stare him down. He sighed, closed the window holding Fury’s response and sat back. “I thought I’d save you from you own curiosity.”

“This," Tony motioned to the gateway, “wouldn’t exist without my curiosity. Whatever Fury’s got you keeping from me—“

“It wasn’t Fury’s call. It was mine.”

“Why?”

Bruce shook his head. “Tony…”

“No, I don’t want to hear about clearance levels and—“ he waved at Bruce’s console. “JARVIS! I want all recordings of the tests run on the time device while I was out of the lab on—“

“Tony, stop.”

“—Thursday the sixth.” He crossed his arms again and stared defiantly at Bruce as if daring him to do something about it.

“The tests conducted at that time were related to a viewing of the mission’s temporal target, sir. Shall I play the recording?”

Tony hesitated. “Yes.”

Bruce stood, moving toward him. “You don’t have to do this.”

Tony shook his head. “I think maybe I do.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “My first reaction was that Fury was trying to cut me out. That he was hiding something.” His hand moved down his face, scrubbing at it. “It has been pointed out to me that I’m missing some important information here.”

“Pepper?”

“Yeah.”

“And you think seeing this will change your perception?”

He nodded slowly. “If anything will, this will.”

“Tony…”

“Look, I’m not asking permission.” He resumed looking like someone was going to call him out for being somewhere he shouldn’t.

“I know that.” Bruce took another step toward him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “But you’ve got a lot tied into this…”

“JARVIS, play it.”

Bruce frowned. “Tony—“

“JARVIS!”

“Loading, sir.”

A moment later, the faint glowing outline of the helicarrier detention level appeared around them. Bruce stood behind Tony as he watched the events play out from the perspective of the same doorway Agent Coulson had entered through.

He watched in eerie silence, only broken by the flinch and corresponding hiss as Loki appeared behind Agent Coulson, scepter in hand. His arms crossed protectively over the arc reactor as Loki drove the blade through Coulson’s chest. He took a step toward the recording as the man hit the ground, barely noting as the center of the room dropped out with Thor still inside.

Bruce followed as Tony got gradually closer to the image of Coulson.

_”You’re going to lose.”_

“He stalled him.” Tony’s voice broke a little. “He figured if he held him there we’d show up…”

“That could be.” Bruce put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “You can ask him yourself after we bring him back.”

Stark nodded but he wasn’t really listening. A faint smile crossed his face when Coulson fired on Loki, sending the god of mischief through the nearest wall. He muttered softly—really to himself—as the recording went quiet. “Should have let Barton kill the son of a bitch…”

Bruce couldn’t argue against that point as they watched Agent Coulson struggle for every breath. He knew that Tony had no problem accepting that Clint and Phil had been involved and obviously letting Clint take the kill shot on Loki made worlds of sense.

The part he hadn’t seemed to be able to reconcile was Fury’s connection to the both of them. For whatever reason, Tony couldn’t wrap his head around the three men together or—it seemed—the idea of Nick Fury as anything resembling a person outside of his position as Director of SHIELD. 

Rumor had it that he’d outwardly seen Agent Coulson the same way but Bruce hoped that at the very least they wouldn’t have to lose Fury for Tony to see how much of a personal impact the man had.

He had a feeling Tony was self aware enough to get that and possibly that was the motivating factor in wanting to see these moments for himself.

Tony stepped aside as Fury entered the scene. He stayed close enough that if they’d been in the same room, it would have been uncomfortable but he needed to see the detail, apparently.

_”Just stay awake. Eyes on me.”_

Tony’s eyes followed every touch, every crack in the armor both men kept in place even as the end crept nearer.

He crouched down beside the image of Coulson and watched Fury; eyes locked on his face as he was helpless and having to watch the man he loved—how sad was it that the only time they could really show that depth of feeling was in their last moments together—slip away.

_”It’s okay, boss…"_

“Jesus…” Tony’s voice sounded small as he mirrored Fury’s motions and stood up. “How the hell did he get from that to…” he shook his head as if the thoughts wouldn’t line up the way he wanted.

“To… what? Motivation by any means necessary? I don’t know. I can infer that…” Bruce took his glasses off and sighed. “Director Fury had nothing personally left to lose.”

Tony spun around, his hand moving through the image of one of the medics. “Barton—“

“Was still AWOL as far as Fury knew.”

“Right…” He dragged the word out. “Turn it off, JARVIS.”

The images were gone a second later, even if Tony was still staring at the wall that had never actually been a part of the room they were in.

Bruce frowned when Tony didn’t speak up again. He went the coffee machine in the corner of the lab and set it up. “You see why I didn’t want to make you watch that now, right?”

“Yeah. I get it.” He finally moved in the direction of the coffee smell that was filling the room. “I don’t like it but I get it. Next time though,” He stepped just barely into Bruce’s space. “Don’t cut me out.” He watched the dark liquid fill the pot. “I get… determined when I think I’m not being told everything.”

“Yeah, I picked up on that.” Bruce sat down at the nearest work station. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Tony poured himself a cup of coffee despite the drip not being anywhere near finished. The sizzling sound of coffee hitting the element gave him a second in which not to answer. “Just… re-evaluating.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“So…” Bruce shuffled some papers, trying to seem casual and sure he was failing miserably. “Does this mean no more poking at Clint about Fury?”

Tony lifted his head with a weak smile. “I don’t like being wrong. I’m not used to it. But…” he took a deep breath and a sip of his coffee. “Think a nice bottle of champagne would be appropriate when this works?” He waved a hand toward the gateway.

Bruce couldn’t quite hold back a chuckle. “I think it might be a good place to start.”

~*~*~*~*~

Clint watched from across the room as Nick worked away on the tablet that would likely need to be replaced in a month or two the way he was beating on it.

He moved slowly, as if trying to corner an animal. Nick didn’t look up but he had to know what Clint was trying to do. He barely moved but he did look up when Clint plucked the tablet from his hands.

“I know,” Clint smiled and set the tablet down on the coffee table. “Vital to the world stuff and all but…” he straddled Nick’s lap. “Take a break. I need to talk to you.”

“About what?” Nick’s hands instinctively fell onto Clint’s hips. It took most of Clint’s self control not to move into those touches. There would be time for that later, but not quite yet. Though as Nick smiled up at him, it got harder and harder to keep that in mind. “I do love having you here.”

Clint couldn’t help but smile back, pressing closer. “I love being here.” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Nick’s lips. “But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.”

“It’s a good topic.” Nick pulled him close, nipping and sucking a path down his throat.

Clint let him continue for a bit. It was more than tempting to just go with it and let Nick have his way with him. If he was honest with himself about it, he knew their sex life hadn’t been as active since they lost Phil but that was normal, according to Samson. The stress, the grief… it all had a way of making them both too tired to do anything but curl up together and try to get at least a little uninterrupted sleep.

But he missed Nick. And judging by the grip he had on Clint’s hips, he must have missed Clint too.

“I’ll let you do whatever you want if you just listen now, okay?”

Nick pulled back a little. “Are we working on a rewards system now?”

Clint leaned in, kissing him deeply, leaving a promise in his wake. “No, either way, you’re getting laid.”

“Good to know.”

“I want to be on the extraction team.” He thought maybe if he just spit it out as quickly as possible, he could somehow speed past the arguments too.

“Clint…”

“Nick, please. Let me do this.” Clint rested his forehead against Nick’s. “If it wasn’t for me, things would never have gotten that bad.” He kissed him again, trying to stave off the obvious replies. “I wasn’t there when you both needed me. Let me fix that.”

“What if he takes you back?” Nick’s voice was low, quiet. His hands moved absently up and down Clint’s thighs. “I lost you once to that lunatic. I can’t do it again.”

“Bullshit.” Clint tensed and shook his head. “If Loki wanted to take me back he would have done it already. During the fight when it would have done him some good.” He looked Nick in the eye and took a deep breath. “It’s not that simple. He’d have to get at me with the scepter again.”

“You sure?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t.”

“I can’t lose you both all over again.”

“You won’t. I’ll be fine.” Clint sighed and nuzzled his neck a little. “Any sign of trouble, you can send me back and Natasha can hit me in the head again.” He sucked softly at the spot just below Nick’s ear that made him shiver. “He’ll be fine too. We’ll get him back. I just need to be in on this.”

Nick sat back, his one golden brown eye—Clint had seen the pictures from before he lost the other one and wanted to gut the bastard that ruined such a beautiful set—boring into him. “Why?”

“I told you why. I fucked up and it cost us Phil. I need to have a part in getting him back.” His hands came up, cupping Nick’s cheeks. “It’s part of… I don’t know, fixing my karma or something.”

Nick sighed before he kissed Clint again. “I can’t claim you’re too emotionally involved either, can I?”

“Not when you’re leading the team, no.”

“Okay.” Another kiss—slower and deeper—passed between them. “I’ll add you in but any weird twinges, anything weird at all, you turn your ass around and go back. Consider that a standing order.” He bumped their noses together.

“First sign of trouble and I’m gone.” Clint nodded, slowly smiling. “Now that that’s settled… take me to bed?”

“How could I say no to that?” Nick’s lips trailed down Clint’s throat. “You in a hurry or can we take our time tonight?”

Clint stood up, pulling Nick to his feet. Usually there would be a smart ass comment to go with the smile on his face, but Samson had mentioned something about emotional honesty during their last visit so he figured he’d give it a shot. “No rush. I just… miss you.”

Nick’s smile grew warmer as he backed Clint into their room. “I’m right here.” He pulled Clint close, kissing him deeply. “And I missed you too.”

Clint fell onto the bed, taking Nick down with him; barely breaking the kiss as they landed on their sides and Clint’s hands slipped up under Nick’s shirt. The small, almost undetectable hum of approval he got was worth the effort. Long slow kisses dragged out between them until Clint’s moans grew more insistent.

“Too many clothes.” He huffed quietly, hands grabbing at Nick’s ass.

Nick chuckled softly, pulling his shirt the rest of the way off before tugging Clint’s over his head. “Getting impatient?” Nick peppered kisses across his chest. “What happened to having all night?”

“Doesn’t mean you should keep your clothes on all night.”

That got another chuckle as their hands worked each other’s flies open. Clint won the race, pulling out of Nick’s grip to tug his pants and underwear down. He moaned against Nick’s skin as he kissed a path down his chest, stopping to flick his tongue over Nick’s nipples in turn and mouth at the myriad of scars he came across. He’d memorized them all years ago but it always felt important not to just glaze all that over. Nick trusted him with those scars. They deserved the attention.

His skin tingled as Nick’s hands slid down his arms. “Get back up here.” He could hear the smile in his voice. “This isn’t just about me.”

“Never is.” Clint kissed his collarbone. “Maybe it should be more often though.”

“Maybe what I want is to touch you…” Nick kissed Clint’s lips again. “Kiss you.” And again. “Make you feel good.”

Clint shivered and smirked into the next kiss. “You know, having your cock in my mouth would make me feel really fucking good right now.”

“You’re so damn smooth.” Nick laughed and Clint tried to remember the last time he’d heard him really laugh. It’d been too long. One hand slid down Clint’s back to cup his ass. “Tell me what you want.”

Clint moaned, pressing back against Nick’s touch. “I want to suck you off. I want to take my time tasting you. I want to finger you and fuck you and watch you come.”

“I think we can do that.” Nick lay back against the pillows at the head of the bed, pulling Clint in for another deep kiss.

Clint took his time, just like he wanted to, pressing his lips to random spots along Nick’s neck, down across his collarbone, murmuring softly against his skin. “I love you. God, I want you so badly right now…”

Nick moaned as Clint nipped at a spot below his belly button. “God damn, Clint… I dreamed about you doing this every damn night.” His hips made a half aborted thrust up toward Clint as he kissed just under his hip bone.

“Hope I live up to that.”

“You always do.” Nick’s fingers traced along the line of Clint’s jaw. He leaned into the touch, turning to kiss the tips of his fingers.

He moved lower, running his tongue slowly down the crease between Nick’s leg and his groin. He felt the muscles tense as he got closer and closer to his goal.

He cherished every time he’d ever made Nick cry out. As he wrapped his lips around the head of his cock, he echoed the moan he got from his lover. Clint had never been what anyone would call a selfish lover but he’d been amazed when he got together with Phil and later Nick at how hard he’d get watching them both fall apart for him. There were times when he’d come untouched while getting one or both of them off.

But that wasn’t what he had in mind this time. He sucked hard at the head of Nick’s cock, working his tongue over every sensitive spot he could reach before pulling back.

“You teasing me tonight?” Nick smiled as Clint reached over to the bedside table and the bottle of lube sitting there.

He smirked as he slicked up his fingers. “Multitasking.” He flicked his tongue out to taste Nick again as his fingers teased his ass. “I know you appreciate that.”

A low groan filled the room as his finger slid into Nick. Clint fought the urge to just rut against the mattress with every moan and hitch in Nick’s breath. He worked on stretching the tight muscles around his finger with a second and eventually a third. Nick bucked up, moaning louder. “Jesus… Clint…”

“And you call me impatient.” Clint smiled and took Nick’s cock in his mouth again, swallowing him down in one smooth motion. He worked his fingers deeper, knowing exactly where and how to touch to get the string of curses that would make even the most hard ass people he knew blush.

“Clint! Fuck me!” It was as close to begging as he’d ever gotten from Nick on his own. There’d been a few times when he and Phil had pulled it off but…

He shoved that thought aside and—twisting and turning his hand—he worked his fingers free. Nick sat up, catching his lips and stroking his cock, covering it with lube. Clint bucked into his hand, moaning loud enough for the sound to bounce back to him.

Nick’s lips barely left his as he straddled Clint’s lap. He nipped at Clint’s bottom lip as he sank down slowly onto his cock. “Mm…” He hummed into the kiss. “Missed you so much.”

Clint’s head fell back with a long, low groan. “Missed you too…” his hand gripped Nick’s hips, trying to keep him there for a few more minutes. “Nick… oh fuck…”

“Stay with me, Clint.” He kissed him again, pulling Clint out of the thoughts that hadn’t fully formed yet and were no doubt creeping in on Nick too. Thoughts of another set of hands on their skin; another set of soft lips to kiss as their climaxes washed over them.

They both let those thoughts go as Nick moved over Clint. Soft moans, gasps and words of love filled the space around them as their rhythm sped up. Clint’s grip on Nick’s hips tightened and he nearly growled when Nick sped up anyway. “Fuck… I’m so close… Nick, please!”

“Me too.” Nick leaned in, sucked a mark into the skin of Clint’s neck, making him cry out; barely clinging to his control. “God, Clint…”

His hand wrapped around Nick’s cock, squeezing at the base and driving a groan from his throat. “You first…” Clint leaned back to watch as Nick’s eye closed and a long, low, rough moan left him.

He watched as long as he could before the feel of Nick tightening around him, coming on his skin and the moans did him in. He cried out, bucking up into Nick a few more times before falling over the edge with him.

Clint collapsed forward onto the pillows when Nick got up. A moment later, the heat of his body was back and a warm cloth wiped the come and the lube off him. He hummed softly, rolling over to bury his face in the crook of Nick’s neck. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” A soft kiss pressed to the top of his head. They stayed curled up quietly for long enough that Clint started to doze before Nick spoke again. “I wouldn’t have gone after him without you.”

Clint smiled and kissed the closest patch of skin he could. “I know.” He lifted his head, kissing his lips again. “We’ll bring him home.”

~*~*~*~*~

There was something comforting about the fact that the portal didn’t glow blue. Nick was fairly sure they’d all had their fill of glowing blue anything for the rest of their lives. It was a garish shade of pink. He was willing to admit that, but something told him Stark did that on purpose.

Or it had something to do with temporal mechanics that he’d never hope to understand.

Either way, it wasn’t blue and that felt a hell of a lot safer for some ridiculous, subconscious reason.

He flipped absently through the file in his hand. White tab. The thing did not exist. Not to anyone. As soon as the medics and with any luck the other version of him on the other side of the contraption in front of him saw it, they’d follow the orders involved and it would all disappear.

Given the circumstances, he was pretty sure his other self would do so without much question. Not that he planned on a face to face, of course. Banner had suggested that could be problematic at best and multiverse collapsing at worst. He wasn’t about the risk that, no matter what the people involved thought.

He scanned the launch bay they’d converted for the mission. The gateway—as Stark and Banner had taken to calling it—was center. Most of the controls were in the small control room up top. Several technicians were busy making last minute adjustments, Stark in the lead and Banner hanging back, only sticking his nose in when he needed to.

“Director.”

Nick turned to face his head of medical. “Doctor.”

“My team is ready whenever you are. I trust you received my timeline?”

“Yes, Dr. Sarin. I’m well aware that I won’t expect any news for the rest of the day when we get back.” Nick nodded, his expression softening a little. “Thank you, Nayana.”

“Thank me when it’s all said and done.” She frowned a little. “At the very least, the research we managed will save lives.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“I’m not making you any promises, Nick.”

“I know. Even if this doesn’t pan out…” It was the first time he’d actually allowed himself to say that such a thing was possible. “Well, it’s good to know it’s not a write off.”

Nayana shook her head as she walked away. “Only you could think that medical and scientific breakthroughs like this could be a write off.”

“Sir.” Hill’s voice cut across the ambient noise of the space. “We’re go in ten minutes.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any point in asking if you’re going to change your mind about this.” She stood at parade rest next to him.

“That ship has sailed, Hill. I think you’re aware of that.”

“Yes, sir.”

Nick sighed, watching the light swirl in the gateway for a second before turning to her. “If you ever get this job, Hill… and I hope you do if worse comes to worse, I hope you never have to face this moment.”

She gave his words a little thought. He appreciated that but she still would feel the need to ask. He knew that and it was part of why they worked together as well as they did. “What moment?”

“The one where you question your own motives. Where you wonder just why you do what you do.”

“I’ve had that moment…” she spoke quietly. “I’d prefer not to have another one.”

“Me too.”

“Doubts, sir?”

Nick looked back at the gate. “A lot of good can come out of all this. Sarin’s research alone will save hundreds of lives.”

“But…”

“It has occurred to me that I’m doing this for my own selfish reasons.” Nick sighed. “But I think I’m past giving a shit about that.”

“Permission to speak, sir.”

“Granted.”

“Good.” She shifted a little. “He… if any of us deserved the effort and attention this took to bring him back, it’s Phil.”

“I could not agree more.” Nick nodded once. “Anything else?”

She straightened up and shook her head. “No, sir.” She checked her watched. “T-6 minutes, sir.”

“Thank you, Hill.” He moved toward the gate and the only other person that seemed as wrapped up in the personal shit as he was. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Clint rolled his shoulders, the agent and asset in him floating to the surface. “At your word, sir.”

“We’ve got a minute.” Nick’s hand rested on his shoulder. “You know what to expect. I know you do but…”

“I’ll be okay. You and me watched the portal right? Nothing’s getting by us.” Clint’s bravado slid into place too. “I’m ready. Let’s bring him home.”

Nick squeezed his shoulder, smiling for a moment before going into Director mode and turning toward the team going through the portal. “Alright people. One last time. In and out. We do not disrupt the timeline any more than is necessary. You have three minutes to stabilize and move our target. If you require the assistance of the medics already present so be it, but keep contact to a minimum. They will be briefed by their own CO. You send Dr. Bigsby to me. I will inform him of what he needs to do.” 

Nick motioned to the combat ready portion of the team. “Horner and Ortiz will cover your back. Barton and I will cover the portal.” With that the portal itself jumped to life. “Three minutes, people. Good luck.”

Ortiz and Horner moved to the front of the group to head through first. The medical team, led by Dr. Sarin followed in form and Nick and Clint brought up the rear. Clint took Nick’s hand as the med team started disappearing through the portal. “Love you.”

Nick let a small smile cross his face. “Love you too. Let’s go get Phil.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to my wonderfully quick and awesome beta, ladydeathfaerie.
> 
> Now without further ado... here we go!

Clint wondered if travelling through time was supposed to feel like being stuck on an overpowered Zipper ride that was being hosed down with hot sundae toppings. But before the thought could completely form, his feet hit grated metal and he had to focus. 

A moment later, he wished he was back on the ride. 

He didn’t waver. He didn’t stumble as he took up position opposite Nick on the portal. But every emotion he knew was coming hit him at once. Every ounce of anger and guilt and horror he knew he’d feel—he knew Nick had felt once already and was probably in it for round two—washed over him until he felt like he shouldn’t be able to breathe. Both sets of medics swarmed over Phil and he felt his own throat tighten.

Nick’s hand on his wrist was the first sign to him that he’d moved. “Let them work. They’ll get him back.”

“You sound sure.” Clint couldn’t take his eyes off Phil. Even the glances through the crowd were simultaneously reassuring and terrifying. He was so pale, so still. He’d known that it was going to be like this but nothing could actually prepare him for it. Nothing was going to take that image from him. He felt the urge to go find Loki again rise up in him. To find some way to make him hurt the way he’d hurt Clint. And Nick. And eventually, after everything else, the way he’d hurt Phil.

Nick’s grip tightened just enough to bring him back. “It’s my op. I have to be.” He closed the space between them, his body giving them a little privacy. “We need to let them work, Clint. We can’t help him. They can. I know what you want. God knows I want it too but we have to let them work. We…” He sighed, his focus shifting to Phil for a moment. “We can’t lose him now. We came this far, right?”

Clint nodded, swallowing hard. “I want Loki’s fucking head for this.”

“Me too. But there’s a time and a place and this isn’t it.” Nick risked something stupid in that moment, reaching up to cup his cheek and bringing Clint’s eyes to him. “Stay with me.”

He nodded again, the words and the touch centering him as he and Nick stepped back from each other and took up their positions again. He watched, because that was something he could do with a certain level of detachment. He took in the details around them. The empty space where the Hulk containment unit had been needed to be assessed. It wasn’t the safest place to hide in all this but that might not stop some coward from sneaking in during the mayhem. He focused there first and momentarily let himself wonder how Thor managed to get his ass out before he hit bottom. If he did. He might ask the next time the big guy showed up.

His gaze traced the walls in the opposite direction to where the med teams were working and where Nick was talking to Bigsby. He couldn’t quite stop the smile that crossed his lips as he came to a hole about the size of Loki in that wall. He mentally calculated trajectory, knowing the basics of what had gone down. So Phil got a shot off even after the fucker stabbed him. That felt good. Really good. He hoped in some childish corner of his brain that it fucking hurt when Loki went through that wall. He hoped he’d get a chance to tell Phil it mattered. He hoped Phil would wake up and smile at him the way he always did after something went sideways.

And he hoped that happened as soon as fucking possible.

~*~*~*~*~

Nick let go of Clint reluctantly. What he wanted in that moment was to hold him, help him through what was breaking both of their hearts all over again. But this was work. They could hang on and piece it all together when they got back and he knew Clint knew that even as he watched the mask slide back into place. As he’d said, there was a time and a place and this was not it.

He watched Clint take I the room and did the same for a moment. He’d been so focused—and rightfully so—when all this had happened, on Phil that he hadn’t taken the rest in. He hadn’t wanted to. There were more important things to do.

_Just stay awake. Eyes on me._

He swallowed hard and let it all sink in for a moment before a white medic’s suit appeared before him. Dr. Bigsby looked painfully confused and Nick could not blame him. “Sir?”

“We don’t have much time so I’ll keep this short.” Nick handed him the file with all the intel he—or the he that was in this time originally—would need. “Deliver that to Director Fury… me… as soon as possible. Everything he needs to know is in there. As for you and your team, what you’ve seen is white tab. This never happened. Agent Coulson died here. That will go in your report the same as if this med team, these agents and myself had never shown up. Clear?”

The man glanced around for a second before he nodded. “Y-yes, sir.”

“Don’t worry, doc. You did good work.” Nick held his hand out and the man took it, his skin touching the ring on Nick’s hand. That was the point. The memory implants would work into his system and the trigger word was in the file that he’d give to his version of Director Fury. After that it was up to him whether the implants would be triggered and the memory of this event would be wiped from Bigsby and his team.

It seemed like the thing to do, to save these people the trouble of keeping this quiet. The only person, potentially that would have the knowledge of what happened was him. And if there was one person Nick would trust with this, it was himself. That truth stayed with him as he shook the hand of each medic. Though the decision wasn’t technically his, he knew that soon enough, this would all be as it should have been without their interference. One word from his counterpart and there would be no sleepless nights wondering what the hell to do with information they shouldn’t have. It did seem like a mercy in the long run.

“Report, Dr. Sarin.”

Nayana stood up and nodded once. “We’re safe to move him, Director. We’ll move directly to surgery once we’re through the portal.”

“On your mark, Doctor. This is your show now.”

She nodded once before turning to her team. “Alright, let’s get him into surgery ASAP.” She waved the two orderlies through the portal, carrying Phil who had as many tubes as they could bring along stuck in him and the head of SHIELD medical followed closely behind.

Nick motioned Ortiz and Horner through after them and took Clint’s hand for a moment while they both stared at the space on the wall. “We need to go.”

“T-2 minutes 37 seconds.” Clint muttered, checking his watch. I know. Three minutes.” He took a deep breath. “I should have been there.”

“I know. I should have been there sooner.” Nick pulled him closer, just for a minute. “You were coming back to me. That’s doing enough.”

“And you were making sure I had something to come back to.” Clint leaned in, kissing him softly and quickly. “They’ll make sure he comes back too though, right?” Clint looked up at him, the soldier vanishing in the light of the hope in his eyes. Nick didn’t want to lie to him. The numbers Nayana had given him weren’t good. They weren’t dire but… 

He tugged on Clint’s hand pulling him into the portal, letting himself stare for a moment at the blood on the wall, remembering the empty, hollow feeling of watching the light in Phil’s eyes go out and fighting it off with everything he had left in him. They’d fix this. Even if he wasn’t 100% sure, he had to keep that mantra going just a little longer. “I certainly hope so.”

~*~*~*~*~

He saw Agent Sitwell leave the waiting room and figured he had to be in the right place. Steve had met the agent and his wife at Coulson’s funeral. They’d spoken occasionally since; polite hellos and such, but he didn’t really have a relationship with the man. Now didn’t really seem like the proper time to build one either but he wasn’t about to be rude. “Agent.”

“Captain.” He looked tired, which Steve suspected way pretty normal under the circumstances. He shifted the Tupperware container in his hands and shook the one Steve offered him. “Weird days.” Sitwell said quietly before the silence fully took over.

“You’d think we’d get used to it.”

That got a bit of a laugh. “I think being used to it is the first sign you should quit doing it.”

Steve smiled. “You have a point there.” The smile faded quickly and he shifted the bag of takeout in his hands. “How are they doing?”

“Nick got a couple hours of sleep. Clint’s resting now. We… well, we haven’t heard anything since they got back.” Sitwell waved the container in his hand. “They could probably do with some food that won’t cause a sugar coma. Linda… well, she doesn’t know what’s going on, obviously but I mentioned that they might need a pick me up and…” He smiled a very fond smile. “She outdid herself.”

“I’m sure they appreciated it.” Steve shifted the bag again. “I should probably…” He motioned to the door. “Y’know. Before it gets cold.”

“Right.” Sitwell nodded and started down the hall. “Captain?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for… well, helping out. Phil will appreciate that, I think.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

Sitwell smiled. “No, doing nothing is the least you could do.” With that he turned a corner and was gone, leaving Steve no other option but to head into the waiting room.

The first thing he saw was Clint curled up in one of the bigger comfier chairs they kept around for times when someone was in a lengthy surgery and the family didn’t want to leave. Times like this, obviously. 

He knocked on the door jam and Director Fury lifted his head. “Captain. We don’t have any news yet.”

“Yes, Sir. I know. Agent Sitwell told me. I just thought… maybe you and Clint might be hungry.” He held out the bag before putting it on the table. “I um… didn’t know what you’d want so I hit the deli a couple blocks up. Soup of the day was minestrone and I figured a couple meatball sandwiches wouldn’t be bad.”

Nick—because that wasn’t a look he’d expect from Director Fury—smiled a little. “You didn’t have to do this, Rogers.”

“Somebody had to.” He shrugged and started pulling things out of the bag, handing a plastic spoon and soup container to Nick. “You’ve been here for almost 10 hours. Sitwell mentioned baking but… I don’t know if a sugar high is going to do anybody any good right now.”

A low chuckle left the man beside him. “Well, thank you. You’re probably right.” He took a long breath, smelling the soup as he lifted the lid. 

Steve reached in, placing two of the sandwiches on the table before unwrapping his own. “Have you… well, have you heard anything yet?”

“The head of medical said we were looking at a long wait. It’s a whole lot of reconstruction and…” Nick scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. He finally reached for one of the subs, unwrapping it and taking a bite before he continued. “We’ve probably got a little more time to wait ahead of us.”

There was a noise from the direction of Clint’s chair a moment later. He grumbled softly before some actual words came out. “Anything yet?”

“No.” Nick reached over, putting his hand on Clint’s before passing the last sub to him. “Nothing yet.”

Clint frowned at the sub as if it’d personally offended him, but he unwrapped it and took a large bite. “’s good.” He nodded toward Steve. “Thanks. I thought we’d be living off those brownie caramel things for awhile yet.”

“Sure. I figured it’d be tough to get a decent meal in here.”

“We’ve gotten pretty good over the years at taking shifts.” Nick wiped a little sauce from the corner of his mouth before taking another mouthful of soup. “This might be the first time we’ve both been able to be here…”

“Hill gave us the green light?” Clint looked a little surprised.

Nick nodded. “Her, Natasha and Sitwell will cover for us for the time being. She said it was the least she could do.”

“I’m sure Agent Coulson will appreciate that.”

Clint smiled. “I’m sure he will too. If anyone will get what that means, it’ll be him.” The hope in Clint’s voice was new to Steve and he was pretty sure he liked the sound of it. He passed the second soup container to Clint and tried to come up with a way to ask what he really had no business asking.

“Spit it out, Rogers. I can hear you thinking from here.” Nick’s voice cut through the room the way it always did but there was no real command to it.

“Well…” Steve popped the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth to buy a little time and figure out what he was trying to ask. “How does this work? I mean, I get that you all… I’m just trying to work it out and…”

Clint nodded. “You’re trying to work out the logistics?”

“Yeah.”

Nick smiled and shook his head. “It works the same way it would if there were only two of us involved. Just… more of the same.”

Clint leaned in, setting down his food and wiping his hands. “What do you do when you’re dating somebody? Talk? Communicate? Do stuff together? It’s the same deal. Sometimes it’s all three of us. Sometimes it’s Nick and me or Nick and Phil or me and Phil. We just need to talk a little more because there’s three thick heads involved.” Clint smiled at Nick and nudged his knee with his own. 

“It’s more work. And we fuck up sometimes. God knows, nobody’s relationship is ever perfect.” Nick agreed. “But I don’t want to think about what it’d be like not to have them both there.”

“Obviously.” Steve nodded then blushed at the implication of what he’d just said. “I mean, you put all this together so… that just seems like—“

“I can’t tell you I didn’t have ulterior motives here.” Nick shrugged. “But it’s taken more people than it should have to fill Phil’s place in SHIELD. We need him, yeah. But SHIELD does too.”

“It’s true. The higher ranked handlers are still complaining at their workload. I guess a lot of them needed paperwork proof read before.”

“They’re not getting that luxury back when he’s back on his feet.” Nick frowned.

Steve shifted a little. “How are you going to explain all this?”

Nick shrugged and Clint reached out, putting a hand on his knee. “I’m going to tell him the truth. He’ll probably hate me for it but there’s no plausible way around telling him exactly what happened.”

“Good. I… well, I have no business telling you what to do but it’s good that he’ll know the truth.” Steve picked at the cuff of his shirt for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.” Clint shrugged. “You already started, might as well finish.”

‘Why the cover stories? The cellist and all that… why bother?”

“Because people are damn nosy. Especially spies.” Nick sighed. “And not everybody’s as open minded as your team seems to be. Phil and I figured out pretty early on that playing single meant people trying to fix you up and excuses only work for so long. The covers were just an easy way to avoid that. It was something we started doing long before we joined SHIELD.”

“Don’t ask, don’t tell?”

“Exactly.” Nick squeezed Clint’s hand. “It’s never been the policy with SHIELD, but it was pretty beaten into the heads of most of the American military personnel that we employ. Things are better now but…”

“Fuck ‘em.” Clint leaned over, kissing Nick’s cheek. “If there’s one thing everybody here should know by now it’s that you don’t throw away a shot at something good when you get the chance to have a life away from all the weird shit. We’ve got something good and anybody that’s got a problem with it can take it up with me.”

“I have no doubt the rest of the team will back you up if it comes to that.” Steve nodded. “All three of you.”

“That’s nice of you to say. I don’t expect anyone to fight our battles for us. But thank you.” Nick nodded once and went back to his soup.

“What he means,” Clint smiled fondly, “is thank you for the support and the lunch and for giving us something else to think about during all this fucking waiting.” His expression sobered as he ate his soup. “Really, Cap. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” They all finished off their food in silence. Steve didn’t dare break it again, thinking he’d likely pushed as far as was acceptable. Well, he was pretty sure he’d gone past what was acceptable and they’d been generous enough to humor him, so helping them hold their vigil silently seemed like the most politic option.

Unfortunately he’d never been all that good with extended silences. He opened his mouth, unsure of what was going to come out when the door to the waiting room opened. Nick and Clint were both on their feet before Dr. Sarin was completely in the room and Steve followed suit.

“Director Fury, Agent Barton.” She nodded to them both before spotting him. “Captain Rogers.”

“I should probably go…” He collected the trash on the table quickly.

“No, stay. You can pass this all along to the rest of your team.” Nick’s voice stopped him more than the offer did but he nodded and stood back. “How’d it go, Nayana?”

“The surgery went well. We were able to repair most of the damage. If his condition stays stable, he may only lose 5% lung capacity on the left side.”

“If?” Clint reached out and took Nick’s hand. Steve couldn’t be sure if he was trying to comfort Nick or himself. “What do you mean if?”

“It was a delicate procedure…” She sighed. “We did have to resuscitate him once. He is stable now and being transferred to ICU.” Her gaze fell on Nick again. “It’s a long road ahead of him if he wakes up. Obviously there will be extensive physical therapy involved. It’s likely going to take some time to get him to the point where he can start that.”

Just out of the corner of his eye, Steve caught the shiver working through Clint. “There’s that word again.”

“I’m sorry, Agent Barton. Things look promising now but I can’t say anything for sure yet.”

Nick’s voice was quiet when he spoke again. “Give me a number, Nayana.”

She studied him for a minute. “Tack another 20% onto the number I gave you before.”

“Thank you.”

She nodded and turned to leave. “I’ll send someone to take you up when he’s ready for company.”

“As soon as possible, doctor.”

“Of course.” She disappeared through the doorway a moment later.

Clint wrapped his arms around Nick, burying his face in the man’s chest. “Oh God… we can’t… he got this far… wha—“

“Shh.” Nick kissed the top of his head and held him close. “We won’t lose him. Not now.”

Steve slowly made his way to the door, stepping out without another word. That wasn’t a moment for him to see. They deserved their privacy. And he had some information to pass along to a few other superheroes he knew.

~*~*~*~*~

His brain was telling him to run. To fight. To lash out. To get out. Years of training and previous experience saw him breathing slowly with the rhythm of the ventilator in an effort to calm down. It was common in military situations and apparently with cops as well that waking up after a trauma or being anesthetized was a violent experience. He told himself to breath. Even if it hurt. Which it did. A lot.

In fact, everything hurt. This was not what he’d been expecting, if he was honest with himself. His stomach turned a little—post operative nausea striking again, no doubt—and that was the first sign that he wasn’t as dead as he’d thought. If he’d taken the time to really give it any thought anyway.

The fact was, it was tough to pin down much of what lead to him being where he was. He remembered a lot. Loki. Clint being compromised. Nick looking more than a little worried. He hated seeing that look on Nick’s face. He hated that he was leaving Nick all alone to deal with everything.

Part of him hated that they’d wasted no doubt seriously depleted resources saving his ass. But that was a conversation for later.

At that moment he just hurt.

The part of his brain that wasn’t confused and clouded by drugs and god only knew what else reached out for things he knew would be there. Things that were familiar. The beep of the monitors that were connected to him and provided a sure sign that he was in fact alive. The faint tinge of industrial cleaners that clearly said ‘hospital’. The dip in the mattress just near his shoulder where Nick’s head ended up when he fell asleep.

But there was something else he didn’t want to hope for. Maybe it was there. Maybe the entire thing had been some kind of coma dream or something. Maybe… 

It took a Herculean effort to squeeze the hand in his. It was a miracle when he managed to blink his eyes open through what felt like super glue. Grey eyes went a little wide and shifted toward blue—not that cold, vacant blue they’d been when Loki had controlled him. It was the blue they went in low lights and when he wore that shirt he’d picked up in Dubai on a whim—as Phil tried to smile around the breathing tube.

There was a blur of action around him that he was only really half aware of as doctors and nurses burst into the room and did what they did best. He would admit that he napped through a lot of it. But drugs did that to him sometimes. It was better to not be quite entirely with it when they took the breathing tube out anyway. He hated that part.

He came back to himself again when Clint’s hand closed around his. His stomach turned but he couldn’t be sure if it was the anesthesia or the fear that something would slip and he wouldn’t actually be there. “You’re alive.” He croaked softly.

“You too.” Clint smiled, lifting his hand to press a kiss to it. 

He turned his head painfully slowly to the spot against the wall where Nick was still standing. “You got him back.”

“Natasha did.”

“I’ll thank her later.” He barely managed to lift his hand toward Nick. “C’mere. Don’t make me wave again.”

He got a hint of a smile and Nick crossed the room, sitting in the chair he’d been in before the whirl wind of medical staff had stormed the room. Nick bent, pressing a kiss to his hand. “Good to see you, Cheese.”

“That’s all you’ve got for me?”

“The rest will have to wait.”

“Mm. Tease.” He blinked a few times. Staying awake was exhausting but he wasn’t ready to give up just yet. “How long…”

Nick and Clint exchanged a look. “Technically about a day and a half.” Clint spoke softly and slowly.

Technically? Even through the encroaching fog that didn’t sound right. He looked at them both, trying to find a clue as to what was going on.

“Get some rest. We’ll talk about it when you’re up to it.”

“No, you’ll tell me now.” He sounded a little weak, even to his own ears. “Nick…”

“It’s been almost seven months…”

“Oh…” That sent him spinning; wondering if he’d heard something wrong. “How…?”

“I always told you I’d move heaven and earth for you.”

“What did you _do_?”

“Phil.” Clint squeezed his hand. “He did what had to get done to get you back, okay? The details can wait.”

He nodded slowly, letting his eyes drift shut but he squeezed both their hands as hard as he could. “You know… no matter what you did… I love you. Both of you.” The words came out slurred and quiet but as he drifted off they both answered .

“I love you too.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some answers are given, but there are always more questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to my wonderfully quick and thorough beta, ladydeathfaerie.

“So is one of you going to tell me what’s going on before I slip back into a stupor?” Phil looked back and forth between the two men sitting beside his bed. It had been a few days—at least he thought it had. It was hard to tell through the sleep and the drugs—since he’d woken up. If anyone asked, he’d tell them he felt good, all things considered. The truth was he felt like he’d been run through and carved open, which was pretty damn accurate. That wasn’t what was bothering him though.

What he wanted to know was how. How had they gotten him seven months into the future and brought him back from the dead. He’d gotten the rough edged medical rundown. New tech that apparently had Stark and Banner running wild though Nayana admitted that temporal mechanics were not something she felt comfortable explaining. He appreciated the work and even managed a smile when Nayana told him she was glad he was back. That wasn’t the story he wanted to hear though.

That would only come from these two.

“Well?”

Clint reached out, lacing their fingers together on the hand that didn’t have several tubes coming out of it. “Phil… look, things without you felt really wrong. Not just us…” He looked up at Nick. “I know it’s crazy but we—SHIELD—needs you. So Nick did what he does when SHIELD needs something.”

Phil closed his eyes and let out a shallow sigh, ignoring the pull of the stitches in his chest and the sharp pain the sigh brought on. “Tell me.” His eyes opened. “Come on, Nick. You owe me that much. If you were going to divert that much energy—“

“I didn’t divert anything.” Nick’s hand rested on his knee as if he was sure Phil would tell him to leave. “Stark, Banner, Selvig and one team. That’s it. Yes, I fast tracked some medical research that will do a hell of a lot more good in the long run than just saving you. And yes, I missed you. I… we don’t work the same without you. But neither does SHIELD.” He sighed and sat back. “The reconstruction was not adversely affected by this project.”

“No, no. Don’t get Director Fury on me.”

“I’m not. I love you. I wanted you back. It was my fault you were down there without back up—“

“Nick…”

“I had to set it right. And I did. If that means you’re pissed off at me, fine. If that means you want me to leave, that’s fine too. I’d rather know you’re okay and not be here than know I could do something and not have you around.”

“Stop.” Phil lifted his hand toward Nick. He almost didn’t grab it before Phil felt his arm start to shake with the exertion. “What part of I love you no matter what do you not get?” He pulled on Nick’s hand, letting out a frustrated noise when it didn’t work. Nick moved his chair closer but Phil had the distinct feeling he’d lost that particular battle. His body at this stage was obviously a traitor. He’d see to that as soon as possible. “You’re an idiot. You’re crazy. But I love you. I’m not going to kick you out for this.” He pulled on Clint’s hand and he seemed to catch on quicker. “Besides, I don’t think Clint would let me.”

“Hey, I’m not holding anyone to any relationships they don’t want.” He leaned in and kissed Phil’s cheek. “But I like having you both here.”

Phil smiled a little, blinking up at Clint as a thought slowly formed. “How are you back? When… when things went to shit you were still—“

“Natasha.”

Phil’s smile got a little fonder and his eyes slid closed. “Of course. What happened?”

“She kicked the shit out of me.”

“Good.” He felt the press of Clint’s lips on his own a moment later and lazily kissed back. The drugs blurred the edges on everything and the sleepy, slow kiss was having exactly the same effect, leaving him happy and ready to drift off. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Same goes.” Clint kissed him again with the same soft, slow determination. Phil hummed softly, smiling as Clint pulled back. “I missed you so much. We both did.”

Phil looked over at Nick. He was still holding back. Of course he was. Phil smiled sleepily and weakly tugged on Nick’s hand, which he’d refused to let go of. “You too, huh?”

“You know it.” Nick moved his chair closer again. 

“So stop.” Phil’s hand slipped up Nick’s arm, squeezing is forearm. “I’m not mad. I don’t get it. I don’t honestly want to ever be in a position where I do.” He sighed and relaxed back onto his pillow. “I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same…” Nick’s fingers brushed against Phil’s cheek and he leaned into the touch. “So get your ass over here and kiss me.”

Nick leaned in, pressing a soft, quick kiss to his lips before a longer, deeper one; as if he still didn’t quite believe Phil wouldn’t change his mind. He rested his forehead against Phil’s for a long moment after. “I thought I lost you.”

“You didn’t.” Phil kissed his lips again. “You won’t. I’ll come back to you. Both of you. And if I don’t I know you’ll find me.”

He felt the smile pull at Nick’s lips when he kissed him again. “Always.” He lifted his head and looked at Clint, who reached out with his free hand, taking Nick’s and squeezing it. Their joined hands rested lightly on Phil’s stomach and he couldn’t stop the soft smile that crossed his face.

“This is… new.” He settled back against his pillows. “Did… did everyone figure it out when—“

“Something like that.” Clint smiled a little. “Everybody who matters knows. We… had some things to work through while you were gone.”

Nick nodded once and lifted Clint’s hand to kiss the back of it. “Samson will probably want to talk to you too at some point.” Nick’s gaze came back to Phil and his thumb moved over Phil’s knuckles.

“Leonard Samson? From psych?” Phil’s eyebrow rose slowly, despite sleep trying to pull him down. “How’d that happen?”

“It just made sense.” Clint shrugged. “A lot happened pretty damn fast so…”

Phil’s smile got a little wider as he started to drift off. “I’m proud of you. Both of you.” He let his eyes close and a long sigh left him. “If this means I can kiss either of you senseless when you do something stupid, then I can handle a meeting with Samson.”

Phil let his mind spin that bit of information over. Even through the cloud of sleep and drugs, it did make a lot of sense. Clint had been through god only knew what with Loki, but he looked like he was doing well. Granted it’d been some time but he felt good knowing that he was getting help with it. And Nick… well, none of what happened could have been easy on him. The whole build a time machine and bring him back plan showed that but Phil doubted most people gave any consideration to how his death and Clint’s compromised state would have weighed on Nick. It wouldn’t have been obvious to most people anyway.

“Fair warning, though.” Clint’s voice forced Phil’s eyes open again. “There’s a whole lot of emotional honesty shit flying around.”

Phil smirked and let his eyes close again. “You’ll have to fill me in later.” He didn’t need to open his eyes to know Clint was the one that leaned in and kissed his lips.

Nick chuckled a moment before he took his turn too. “You’ll pick it all up in no time.”

“I love how much faith you have in me.”

“I love that you’re here to say that.” Nick kissed him again, smiling against his lips. “Get some rest.”

“Mm. You too.” Phil yawned. “Go home. Get some sleep. Not just out in the waiting room. I’ll know if you do that.”

Clint laughed softly. “Yes, sir.”

“We’ll check in tomorrow.”

Phil nodded and relaxed further into the mattress. They each kissed him again but didn’t let go of his hands. He figured there were worse ways to fall asleep than Nick’s thumb moving over his knuckles and Clint lifting his hand for a kiss now and then.

He knew, after all, they weren’t going anywhere until they were sure he was actually sleeping.

~*~*~*~*~

There wasn’t so much a noise as a sharp intake of breath as Bruce knocked on the door. Given where they were, it seemed the wise choice to go in without waiting for an okay from the room’s current occupant. He made it in fast enough to get an arm about the man before he hit the ground. “Are you supposed to be doing this yet?”

“Technically? No.” He sighed and let Bruce help him back into bed. “I’ve never been patient with modern medicine.” As he settled against his pillow, Bruce could admit that Phil Coulson looked far more exhausted and drawn than the man he’d seen in several of his acquaintances photo collections, but he caught the spark of recognition when he lifted his head. “Oh.”

“I thought it was time we met officially.” Bruce shrugged one shoulder. “Clint may have made a little noise about making sure you knew it wasn’t just Nick and him wasting SHIELD resources to get you back here.” He let out a small nervous chuckle.

“Well, to be honest, the thought had crossed my mind.”

“If it helps at all, it struck me pretty early into all this that you are irreplaceable around here. Not just with the Avengers and Clint and Fury.”

“Nobody’s irreplaceable…”

“Maybe not. But some people leave a bigger hole than others.” Bruce let a wry smile cross his face. “Trust me. I know something about leaving holes.” He smiled which put Bruce a little more at ease. “Look, you may have been the impetus here but a lot of good will come out of the research that was done because of this.”

“That’s comforting.”

“Why wouldn’t it be? Dr. Sarin’s research is already being applied around the world. Lives are being saved and you were the motivation for that. That’s not a bad note on your karma.”

“Maybe not.” Bruce watched as Coulson let his eyes close and sighed. “I’m just having a hard time understanding why you would get involved. Why anyone outside of…” he sighed again. “I don’t understand why you would get involved, Doctor.”

“Well,” Bruce took a second to really think about the stories and grief and emotional context he’d been surrounded by in that moment. “As an outside observer, it’s easier to get a big picture on things. Or people. I heard things about a man that saved the lives of so many agents, taught them so much, meant so much to them… it seemed like the right thing to do.” He shrugged again. “The hole was too big not to try to fill it properly again.”

“Where did you hear all that?”

“Your funeral.”

Coulson didn’t react much, but that obviously took him a little by surprise. “Right… yeah, I guess there would have been one of those.”

“Most people won’t remember it now.” That brought Coulson’s head up. “Aside from the team involved and the researchers. And the Avengers obviously. We worked out a sort of inoculation for those of us that needed to be unaffected by the shift in the time stream. Tony may have gone a little overboard on including people but the world at large will never know the difference.”

“Inoculation? How does that work?”

“It’s based off SHIELD’s memory tech, actually but it’s been modified temporally and as far as I know, there’s not a trigger command involved.” Bruce thought there was a good chance that wasn’t entirely true. If someone went rogue, he was sure Fury had a way to make sure they didn’t go spreading the tech or the information to SHIELD’s enemies. It wasn’t something he wanted to think too hard on. “It was a necessity. We couldn’t have the team running the tech involved forgetting what they were doing in the middle of the mission.”

“Of course.” He was obviously trying to work out what Bruce wasn’t saying and there was a good chance he’d come to the same conclusion. He knew Fury better than most people, after all. “Wonder what the official reports say…” Coulson shook his head, looking even more tired than he had when Bruce came in. “You’ll forgive me if I still think all of this effort was too much for me.” He looked Bruce in the eye and gave him a weak smile. “But thank you.”

“Well… you’re welcome. I’m… well, I’m glad it worked.”

Coulson smiled a little more, letting out a soft laugh before flinching and thinking better of it. “Me too, despite what this must sound like.”

“No, it’s understandable. It’s a lot to take in.” Bruce motioned toward the man’s shoulder. “You’ll probably heal faster if you don’t push yourself to the point of collapse.”

“So they tell me.”

“Well, I am a doctor.”

“You’re a sadistic bunch, you know that?”

“It’s part of the med school application. Are you willing to put people through extreme pain and/or boredom?” He chuckled, letting go of some of the nervous tension. “If you say no, they reject you.”

“That actually makes a disturbing amount of sense.”

“My point though,” Bruce smiled, “is that your friends and partners no doubt want you back to full health quickly. I’m sure you want that too.”

“Of course.”

“Pushing like that won’t get you there.”

“Is that the end of the lecture?”

“Yes. I’ll be sure to let Dr. Sarin know you’ve received one today already.”

A soft, wry laugh filled the room and Bruce felt like he’d been gifted with something few people were. Phil Coulson didn’t strike him as the kind of man that laughed about just anything after all. “I appreciate that.”

“I’ll let you get some rest. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of visitors soon enough.”

“Natasha’s running interference with Stark so I’m safe for a little while, but I’m beginning to think you’re right.” He settled heavily against the pillow under his head.

Bruce nodded once as Coulson closed his eyes. He headed to the door and out into the hallway a moment later. He thought there was a good chance that Coulson would take what he said to heart but he couldn’t blame the man for looking for answers. He hoped he’d find them and that those answers would help him make peace with what happened. He thought maybe he’d mention that to Fury when they next met. But then he probably anticipated this reaction. For all Bruce knew there was a packet waiting for Coulson when medical cleared him for it.

Either way, he thought this particular conversation went well and he found himself wondering if he might not manage to have another conversation with Phil Coulson in the future.

~*~*~*~*~

The flash of red on several screens caught his attention. Several of the techs at those stations started typing frantically. Nick glanced over at Maria, one eyebrow raised before his voice cut across the command center. “Report!”

The nearest tech turned around, facing him with wide eyes. He swallowed hard as Hill came up behind Nick but to his credit, his voice didn’t shake. “Our system’s been compromised, sir. Repeatedly. We’re tracing the attacks but they’re coming from…”

“From where?”

“From everywhere, sir. Brazil, Monaco, Norway, we’ve got one from a base on the South Pole.”

‘What are they after?” Maria’s voice flew past his ear to the tech.

“That’s the thing, nothing vital by the look of it.” The tech started tapping at keys quickly and shook his head. “All low level, non-essential information. One of them looked up the menu on the commissary this week.”

Nick turned to face his second in command. “What do you think?”

“Distraction? Or just another one of those chaos cults or wannabe anarchists.”

“Rising Tide?”

“No, sir.” The tech spoke up again. “It’s not that they can’t get in, it’s that they aren’t. Rising Tide would have dug deeper, faster.”

“I want an eye on that site anyway. If you see that menu on there, I want to know about it.” He sighed. “So a distraction.” He hummed as he thought, pointing at one of the comm. officers. “Farber. I want every communication that has left this building since the hack started.”

“Yes, sir.” She turned back to her station and started working. Nick liked that. No argument, not excuses, no explanations why what he was asking was impossible. That was almost refreshing.

“Somebody get me Stark. If this is that asshole’s idea of a joke, I’ll pry his ass out of that tin can with a crowbar.” He started off toward his office, yelling behind him. “And the head of this department better have her ass in my office in the next half hour.”

Maria resisted the urge to shake her head as the head tech on the floor went scrambling. “Alright people, you heard him. Get it done!” She turned back to the original tech. If she hadn’t, she might have caught Agent Farber smiling quickly at her screen. She might have caught the quick flash of one transmission’s contents disappearing from the records and the signal itself being transferred to a different station. As it was, her focus was on stopping the minimal annoyances of the random attacks.

It wasn’t until her work was done that Agent Farber spoke up. “Ma’am? I may have something.” As Hill came up behind her, studying her screen, Farber continued to speak. “I’ve got a signal but no message.”

“Can you trace it to the station?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Her keyboard clicked for a few minutes with Hill hovering over her shoulder. Farber lifted her hand and pointed to the empty station on the next level up. “There.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” Hill sighed and moved away. “I want the names of every person that has worked that station for the last week. I want records of every key stroke.” She turned back briefly to the other woman. “Good work.”

She smiled and turned back to her screen again. It took every ounce of self control not to laugh. She gave herself a moment to smirk at the screen as she continued to chase down the imaginary guilty agent. She’d been with SHIELD for four years and the only time her cover had been risked was during Loki’s attack. She’d healed and she planned on continuing her assignment. Two words filled her mind for a moment as she smiled. 

_Hail HYDRA._


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow amidst the numerous seasonal fests... I got this done. Hope you all enjoy it. Thanks as always to ldf for her wonderful beta work.

“Sir, I’ve got the report and the comm. list from the attack.”

Nick lifted his head, watching Maria as she sat down heavily across from him. That was rare but it had been a long week. “And?”

“Nothing conclusive.” Hill’s voice sounded clipped and, though most people wouldn’t notice, annoyed. She didn’t like not knowing where something went wrong. She wanted to pin point the problem and likely stick a pin in it. Or worse. The longer it took to get answers, the worse it got. He knew that and maybe, in some instances, counted on it. On this particular topic though, he wanted answers sooner rather than later. “The signal trace went nowhere.”

“Did Stark find anything?”

“He’s working on it.”

“Working on it?”

“He’s less amused by this than we are. Said something along the lines of him being the only one allowed to break into SHIELD systems.” She shook her head. “I think they hurt his pride.”

“Good. That’s a good motivator for him.” Nick started flipping through the report. “Anything else?”

“Nothing. We know something was sent. Other than that…”

“We know fuck all.”

“Pretty much.”

“But you’ve got a theory.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’ve always got a theory, Hill.”

“Fine.” She sighed and frowned. “I think someone is not sharing all the information pertinent to this situation.”

“You think we have a mole.”

“Maybe. Or someone that did something stupid and doesn’t want to fess up.”

Nick’s eyebrow crept up without him lifting his gaze from the file in front of him. “You think that’s likely?”

“No, sir.” She looked up for a moment. “We probably have a mole.”

“Let’s find out what kind, how long and who as soon as possible.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Subtly, Hill. Don’t tip our hand until we know for sure. I want different sets of false intel out there. We’ll see which ones show up again.” He looked up. “Who can you absolutely trust on your comm. units?”

“I’ll put together a list.” She looked slightly annoyed. “It won’t be long.”

“I didn’t think it would.” He stood and came around the desk. “We’ll flush them out. Maybe uncover a few more along the way.”

“Do you want to put Morse on this too?”

“Not yet. She works better with a specific target. Brief her. Keep her in the loop. She might hear things we don’t.” Nick sighed and shook his head. “Any ear we can trust needs to be perked up here.”

“I’ll make sure everyone is aware of that.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“How’s Agent Coulson?”

Nick smiled. “He’s good, Maria. I’ll tell him you send your best.”

“I’ll go see him myself soon.” She smiled a little. “Tell him I’ve just been too busy covering for you lately.”

“I will pass that along.”

~*~*~*~*~

Phil was doing his level best to be cooperative. He was. Really. Of all the people in the world that should understand a strong desire not to talk about something, he thought a SHIELD psych officer should be on the list. “I just don’t see why this couldn’t have waiting until I was on my feet again.”

“This isn’t really an official session, Agent Coulson. I just wanted to touch base before any further talks with your partners.”

Phil tensed just a little and sighed. Right, this was important to Clint and Nick. This man had helped them through everything that had happened. They trusted his judgment as much as they ever trusted anyone outside of their immediate circle. He promised himself he’d keep that in mind as much as he could. “What exactly did you want to touch base on?”

Samson sat back in his chair and watched him for a moment. “I’ll level with you, Agent. I know from what I’ve heard that you don’t have much patience for dancing around an issue. You’ve been through a major trauma. That alone would mean some time dealing with me or one of the other shrinks around here.”

“Fair enough.”

“But, that being said…” He sighed and leaned in. “You’re in a unique situation here. You and Agent Barton and Director Fury. There’s no telling what the outcome of their actions will come to.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that the guilt and fear that could come out of this for all of you isn’t the kind of thing you can ignore until it goes away.”

“And you think that’s my plan.”

“Not consciously. But I think you’ll go along with this for Agent Barton and Director Fury’s sake.” Samson shook his head. “That’s not really going to be good enough in the long run.”

“So what you’re saying is I better get with the program and make a real effort here.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Be honest with them. Don’t hold back. I think they know you well enough to have a pretty good idea when you’re doing that. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“If anyone would know.” Phil scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’ll give it a shot. I’m not really good at this kind of thing.”

“Neither were they. It takes some time.”

“Time… right.” There it was. The reminder that he’d been gone for far too long. That life had gone on. That they’d had to deal with him not being there. That he hadn’t been there to help Clint through the aftermath of what Loki did to him. That Nick had had to stand up alone without him at his back. “I missed some of that.”

“I imagine that would take some time to settle into as well.”

Phil sighed. “Do we have to do this now?”

“You brought it up.”

“Fine.” Phil shifted, trying to get comfortable physically if not mentally. “It’s ridiculous to feel guilty for…not being here.”

“No one has ever said emotional reactions are rational.”

“No, that’s true. But I don’t know what I could have done to make it so this… all of this wasn’t necessary.”

“Given how they feel about it, I don’t think anything short of not being in that room that minute would have done the trick.”

“Maybe not.” Phil frowned down at his hands, willing himself not to fidget with the sheets. “It’s ironic that when you really need someone there, they’re not and that’s the reason why you need them so much…” He felt himself babbling a little, trying to talk out the way his mind wanted to justify everything. He’d done his best to distract himself with anything they’d let him do and yes, he’d likely been pushing too hard to get on his feet again so he could be there for Nick and Clint now. As if somehow that would make up for all the pain and him not being there.

He sighed and shook his head. Maybe there was something to this therapy nonsense.

“You don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone?” Samson smiled when Phil looked up. “I don’t think that’s a new concept for anyone. You’ve likely got a fresh perspective on it though.”

“They shouldn’t have had to deal with all that.”

“No, they shouldn’t have.” Samson nodded and became a little more serious than he had been. “But that’s on Loki, not you.”

Phil returned the nod, acknowledging the point without delving any deeper. There was something else he wanted to talk about anyway. “You said something about fear… that we’d all have to deal with it.”

“It’s a human condition.” Samson shrugged. “One that ties pretty heavily into major trauma.”

He let out a small, dry laugh. “Irrationally so, I’m sure.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t fear the things people think you would after being attacked.” _At least not yet_ , he added silently. “I don’t think Loki’s going to come back and finish it. He already did and it didn’t stick.”

“Then what is it?”

Phil took a deep breath before he continued. “I don’t want to let them down again. I don’t want them to suffer because of me.”

“That’s the risk we all take though. Otherwise you’d have to cut yourself off completely.”

“I’m not really the hermit type.”

“I’ve picked up on that.”

“I don’t want…” Phil shook his head again. Things were coming out faster than he was really comfortable with but he figured it was for a reason. Maybe holding everything back wasn’t such a hot idea. “I know Nick thinks I’m going to walk away and Clint would come with me.”

“Have you thought about it?”

“No!” Phil’s head shot up. “Christ, no. What he did was stupid, reckless and an abuse of power but… I know why he did it. I get it. If it’d had been the other way around I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing. And those reasons, that’s why I love him.”

“Have you told him that?”

“Repeatedly.”

“Well, keep at it. He’s a stubborn man. He’ll get it eventually.”

“And Clint… I failed him so many ways.”

Samson’s eyebrow crept up. “You were dead.”

For half a second, the ‘that’s no excuse’ he wanted to let fly sat on the tip of his tongue. “Right.” 

“And what about you?”

“What about me?” Phil’s forehead wrinkled slightly in confusion.

“How does it feel to be brought back? To be missing all that time?”

Ah yes. That. He sighed, contemplating his answer carefully. “It could be worse. Seven months isn’t really that much… comparatively.”

“But it could be harder to adjust to than say… seventy years.”

“I suppose there’s a parallel there.” Phil shrugged his right shoulder, careful not to jostle the left. “At least things are still familiar.”

“That can make things more jarring for you when differences do show up.” Samson leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Captain Rogers had to adjust to an entirely new life and new world. Most of the familiar things and people were gone. As extreme as that is, a complete separation isn’t always a bad thing.”

“How much could have changed in seven months?”

“Your relationship is a little more open, isn’t it? That seems like a big change.”

Phil considered it. It was. The idea that they could be a little more public, a little more truthful about everything seemed as foreign to him as anything Steve Rogers had had to contend with upon his awakening. The idea that here in medical, Nick and Clint were visiting often, holding his hand, pressing kisses to his lips with no fear of recrimination… Maybe the doctor had a point. “There is that. But that’s a good change. For all of us.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

“It is a good change. It’s something that will take some getting used to, sure and no doubt there have been some negative reactions but most of that initial trouble has blown over by now.”

“Another thing you weren’t there for.”

“I…” Phil frowned again and considered that. “Well… yes. That’s probably something I should bring up with them too.”

“That’s going to be quite the list.”

“And I think you’re to blame for that.”

“If that’s what you need to do, fine.”

“You are annoyingly calm, Dr. Samson.”

It was the first time he’d ever seen Dr. Samson smirk. “I think you’re getting a taste of your own medicine, Agent Coulson.”

He chuckled. He couldn’t quite help himself. “I’ll think about this… all of it.”

“Good. Next time, you’ll have back up.”

Phil nodded, wondering if having Nick and Clint there would make it easier or harder to open up about these things. “That should be interesting.”

“I have no doubt it will be.” The man stood and nodded once. “Rest up. Pushing yourself too hard isn’t going to be good for any of you either.”

“I will do my best.”

“I’ve heard that about you. Thank you for not fighting me on all this.”

“Thank you for not pushing too hard.” 

With that, Dr. Samson left and Phil did his best to turn over the things he’d been left with. No doubt he had many interesting conversations ahead of him.

~*~*~*~*~

Tony Stark was annoyed. More than that, he was obsessively pissed off. Some random bad guy wannabe had tried to outdo him. At least that was how he saw it. Sure, someone had leaked some kind of sensitive information from SHIELD out to the wide world of evil and that was bad. Really bad. But this had been made personal in big ways as far as he was concerned.

This meant he’d likely spent far too long in the lab bent over a desk with JARVIS running every scan and keeping tabs on every communication coming from SHIELD. It was a long list. Who knew secret agents were so damn talky! The ones he knew must have been the exception to the rule. Though after a couple beers, Barton could get chatty…

That wasn’t the point though. He felt like he was going cross-eyed trying to sort out what was and wasn’t important and what was and wasn’t something that shouldn’t be a topic of conversation. And what was going places it shouldn’t be going.

He had a new respect for the folks at SHIELD comms. There was a lot to go over. He’d narrowed the field considerably. And he felt like he was getting somewhere but it was still a mountain of stuff to sort through.

“Coffee?” A voice caught his attention from the doorway.

“I’ve got. There’s a pot over by Dum-E.” Tony waved toward the wet bar. “Help yourself. Don’t take it all.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Natasha moved through the space silently and he lost his focus on her as she poured herself a cup. “Making any progress?”

“Did Fury send you?”

“Yes.”

“I appreciate the blunt honesty.”

“I thought you might.” She sipped from her mug and leaned on the desk. “So, progress?”

“I think I’m making headway.”

“Think?”

“You people are too chatty.”

“Have you filtered out the personal correspondence?”

“Of course. I’m not an amateur.”

Her raised eyebrow said otherwise. “Maybe focus in on…” She leaned over his shoulder, scanning the text as it flew over the screen. Her finger came up and pointed. “That. That’s misinformation.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course.” She glanced at her watch and nodded. “Smart. High volume of communications right now. Mostly personal. Easy to lose it in the shuffle.” She smiled at Tony. “Just like you did.”

“I would have spotted it.” He refused to pout in the face of victory. They had a trail now. All they had to do was track it, first to the recipient, then to the source. “Should we see where it’s going?”

Natasha’s smile became something far more predatory and she sat gracefully on the edge of his desk. “Oh yes, let’s.”

~*~*~*~

“Jesus, are you just going to carry me to the bed?” Phil huffed. He was not about to admit that he might be leaning a little on Clint as they exited the elevator and headed toward their apartment. He was glad to be well enough to come home, absolutely. He wasn’t sure he was entirely ready for the level of fuss Clint and Nick were going to make over him in the process.

“If you keep whining about being fine, I might just do that.” Nick’s voice held the hint of a laugh as he unlocked the door. “And you know I’m not kidding.”

“I know. You’ve done it before.” Phil managed a weak glare as he moved through the door. He was followed by Nick’s chuckle and Clint’s arm slipping back around his waist. He sighed and leaned into him fully. There was something about being back in the apartment that took a great deal of weight off of him. It always did but it felt like an age since he’d been home. It had, in reality been far too long but still. “So… is anything really different? Did you redecorate?”

Nick leaned in, kissing his cheek. “Barely touched a thing. Welcome home, Phil.”

He turned, catching Nick’s lips in a soft, lazy kiss and smiling. “Thanks for bringing me home.” 

“It wasn’t home without you.” Clint spoke softly into his ear. “Come on, let’s get you settled.”

“I can make it on my own.” The huff from earlier returned full force. “All that physio hasn’t been for nothing, you know.” He made it to the couch and sat down gingerly, finding the perfect way to sit back without putting too much pressure on the newly formed scar on his back. He knew he was favoring it a little and he’d work past it eventually. It was usually part of his physio regime but he wasn’t quite there yet. 

He glanced around. Nick was right. They hadn’t changed much. There were a few new books on the bookshelf. A couple new movies in the collection. He would get to those eventually. Probably sooner rather than later given that he had some time to do some reading. As if he’d read his mind, Nick handed him a book over the back of the couch. “I couldn’t bring myself to take your bookmark out so…”

Phil smiled at the cover and took Nick’s hand. “Thanks. I might just start over anyway though. I probably wouldn’t remember half of what I read already.”

“I doubt that.” Clint sat down next to him. Instinct saw Phil wrapping his arm around Clint as he leaned in. It was their standard TV watching position. Nick often made fun of the two of them curled up in exactly the same way watching the same bad reality TV. Even so, he usually joined in, curling in behind Phil and wrapping his arms around them both. “Do you want to raid the DVR?”

“Not yet.” Phil sighed and pulled on Nick’s hand, leaning forward to make room for him in his usual place. “I just want to… be here. With you two for awhile.”

He felt Nick smile against his throat. “Sounds like a good plan.”

“Best plan.” Clint nuzzled the other side of Phil’s neck and exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath. “I say tonight calls for the good take out, too.”

“Sounds perfect.” Phil relaxed back against Nick, drifting slowly and feeling particularly safe; the way home should feel, he always thought. He was pretty sure he could have been anywhere in the world, as long as he could have Nick and Clint with him, he’d feel that same safe feeling. It was good to know that hadn’t changed.

“And tomorrow you’re getting breakfast in bed.” Nick kissed his temple. “I’ve got all the fixings ready.”

“I want to help.” Phil turned his head to pout at him. “It’s not the same if I don’t get to help.”

“You can supervise.” Clint grinned, obviously looking forward to the breakfast of champions. Phil wondered vaguely how bad it had been without him, how empty it must have felt without all three of them shuffling around the kitchen. He pushed the thought away quickly.

“I am perfectly capable of cutting up mushrooms from a seated position.” He found himself chuckling softly.

“Alright. You can supervise and deal with mushrooms.” Nick conceded. “But we’re going to enjoy an easy morning. None of us are going anywhere.”

“Is that an order?” Phil smirked.

“Damn right it is.”

“Yes, sir.” He pressed a kiss to Clint’s temple and smiled. “It’s good to be home.” It was such a simple thing to say but it was so true. And Samson had told him not to hold anything back. If it would make the transition easier he was more than willing to cuddle and tell these men over and over again. “God, I love you both.”

“Love you too.” Nick answered first.

Clint hummed in the affirmative and pressed a kiss to Phil’s lips. “Is that you being emotionally honest?” He smirked and Phil found himself laughing.

“Did he get more perceptive at some point?”

“I think he did.” Nick echoed Phil’s laugh. “Not sure if I like it yet.”

“Well, you’re stuck with it.” Clint lifted his head, sticking his tongue out at both of them before settling his head back down on Phil’s chest. 

Phil sighed and let his head fall back onto Nick shoulder. “Could be worse.”

“Absolutely.” Nick nodded once before resting his head against Phil’s.

“Clint?”

“Mhmm?”

Phil smirked down at the man nearly sleeping on his chest. “We love you anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky you’re both so damn cute.” Clint chuckled and shook his head without lifting it. That kind of comment usually led to an in depth discussion about who in fact was the cute one. They never agreed. But this time, Nick let it slide. Part of Phil wondered if he needed that affirmation as much as Phil felt he did. 

“We should get you to bed.” Nick shifted behind him before Phil’s hand closed over his thigh.

“Not yet. I’m good here for a bit longer.” In truth he felt like he could have sat there for the rest of his life and been more than happy. As he drifted between sleep and waking something occurred to him. “Did you get red peppers for the omelets?”

The room was silent for a long time before Nick whispered, clearly more to himself than anyone else. “Shit…”

Phil smiled. At least some things never changed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quickest update EVER! lol Thanks to everyone who kicked my butt and got me writing in a big way! You guys are awesome! Also thanks to my always wonderful beta, ladydeathfaerie.
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: There is sex in this chapter. If you want to skip it, just scroll through the middle of the chapter. You won't really lose much in the way of plot but there's some character stuff in there that might be to some folks liking.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! We're in the home stretch now!

He waited for longer than he thought was strictly necessary though he’d come to the conclusion that doctors did that on purpose to test certain responses. That, of course, didn’t mean he didn’t hate it. He considered himself a patient man after all but something about sitting in a doctor’s office tended to eat away at that particular quality.

As if the two months out of the hospital hadn’t been enough of a wait.

When Dr. Sarin finally showed up and sat behind her desk, it suddenly felt like a power struggle. Who was going to blink first? Frankly, Phil didn’t really want to wait it out. “So, am I going to live?”

Nayana’s eyebrow crept up before her gaze did. “Everything seems to be progressing nicely. I’d appreciate it if you stopped pushing for more physio than is good for you at this point.”

“I can’t break tradition now, can I?”

She sighed. “If I don’t clear you for light duty, you’re going to be a pain in my ass, aren’t you?”

“You know me so well.”

She shook her head and went over the charts in front of her. “You’re not having any trouble catching your breath? Any tightness?”

“No. Nothing like that. Just can’t quite go for as long as I used to.”

“Well, that is to be expected. We saved what we could but you did lose some tissue.” She looked at him over the file. “I will clear you for light duty and light physical activity.” She barely managed to hide her smirk. “Tell your boyfriends to behave themselves.”

Phil laughed. “I think at our age ‘boyfriends’ is a little ridiculous, don’t you?”

“With those two? Not even a little.” She shook her head and put the file down. “Take it slow. At everything. And stop pushing so hard.”

“I will.” He nodded solemnly.

Nayana laughed. “Liar.”

“Would you expect any less?’

“Of course not.” She pointed at him with her pen. “Go home. Rest. You can go back to desk work on Monday.”

“Thanks, Nayana.”

“Thank me by not showing up in here again for awhile.”

“I’ll do my best.” He got up and felt considerably lighter as he went into the hall. Or he did until turned the corner and ran smack into someone. “Sorry about th—oh.”

“No need to apologize, Agent Coulson.” Steve Rogers smiled and nodded. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

“Much better, thank you. I um… I think I owe you an apology, Captain.” He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the blush creep up his cheeks. 

“No, you really don’t. It’s fine. I wouldn’t mind starting over though.”

“Well I owe you a thank you either way. I heard you were there for Nick and Clint a lot during my… well, absence.” Phil cleared his throat. “If it wouldn’t be too much to ask, I’d like to take you to lunch sometime as a thank you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Maybe not. But I’d like to if you’re alright with it.”

“Well,” the man’s smile widened a little. “I’m free now if you’re not busy.”

Phil returned the smile. “Well, I’m stuck on leave until Monday so I think I have time for a lunch now. There’s a diner nearby that has some of the best burgers in the city.”

“I think I know the one. Sitwell suggested it.”

“Then it’s probably the same one.” Phil motioned back toward the elevators and Steve led the way.

Phil was forcing himself to keep a hold on the silly, giddy feeling that threatened to bubble up. If he acted like a dork again, he’d likely never live it down. The walk to the diner was a bit of a blur and he found himself staring at the menu as if he didn’t know what to get—he thought he’d earned himself a bacon cheeseburger after all the tests they ran on him that morning—and trying to figure out how to thank his hero for looking out for his lovers.

To say it was surreal was putting it mildly.

“I really wanted to say thank you for everything you did. I know how they can get when things aren’t going well… I know I’m just as bad if it’s one of them so, thank you for helping out.”

“It’s really nothing.” Steve stirred a creamer into his coffee as the waitress walked away with their orders. “I couldn’t really do much else to help aside from bringing people food for a long time there. It got to be habit.” He chuckled and took a sip. “By the way, I called in a couple favors and… I know they might not be as nice as the ones you had but there’s a set of cards for you. All signed.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Like I said, I had some time and I figured if Fury’s plan worked, you might like them.”

“Wow.” Phil shook his head and let out a bit of a nervous laugh. “That’s far too kind, Captain.”

“Steve.”

“Steve.” Phil nodded and took a sip of his own coffee. 

“So how are you doing?”

He lifted his head and a confused look passed over his face. “Fine. Finally got clearance to go back to work so that’s a plus.”

“It’s not too… weird?”

Phil resisted the urge to chew on his lip. “Not really. Not yet. I’ve been pretty isolated from most of SHIELD since I came back. That’s probably made it easier.”

Steve nodded. “The little things’ll probably catch your attention more than anything. I know it wasn’t that long but…”

“But missing time can be tough to navigate.” Phil nodded, staring into his mug. “I’ll admit that was part of the reason I wanted to do this. Take you to lunch, I mean.”

“I figured that might have something to do with it. Not many people are going to get that.”

“Exactly.” He smiled and a small laugh left his lips. “Clint keeps making jokes about the accelerated Captain America experience but I guess he’s not too far off the mark.”

“No, I guess he’s not.” Steve echoed the laugh and took another sip. “If there’s anything you want to get off your chest or… well, I’m here; I guess is what I’m trying to say.”

“I’m not sure what I’d really have to complain about.” Phil shrugged. “According to all the reports on me that I’m not supposed to be reading, I’m adjusting well but sometimes it’s just enough to feel… wrong.”

Steve nodded. “That makes sense.”

“So I’ve been told.” Phil thought back to his conversations with Dr. Samson on the topic. There’d been a lot of them. Everything else he knew how to process or at least had a good idea on how to sort it all out. It wasn’t the first time he’d been injured on the job. But the time problem didn’t want to fit. It felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe it would when he went back to work. He wasn’t sure but there was a tension to things that he felt shouldn’t really be there. “Does it let up?”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded. “Slowly, but yeah. Eventually things kind of fall into place and don’t seem quite so out of sync.”

“That’s comforting.”

“Still, sometimes it’s good to know you’re not the only one that’s dealing with something weird and pretty unique.”

“Wise words.”

“I don’t know about that.” Steve sat back as the waitress brought their plates out. He chuckled at Phil’s overloaded plate for a moment. “Medical wouldn’t approve.”

Phil smirked and picked up the burger, taking a very large bite and chewing happily. “I could not care less what medical thinks right now.”

“That’s probably the first step to being yourself again.”

“I think I like this step.”

“It looks like a good one.”

~*~*~*~*~

Nick was not going to panic. That was not something he did or at least not something he showed outwardly. And his hand absolutely did not shake as he put his key in the door. “Somebody want to tell me what the emergency is?”

Clint was sitting in the kitchen, looking just as worried as Nick felt. “I don’t know. I got a text saying we needed to be home ASAP but nothing else and Phil’s not here.”

Nick had his phone out by the time Clint finished and was ready to dial SHIELD Medical to find out just what the fuck was going on when they both heard another key in the door. “Sorry! I got caught up at lunch.”

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Clint’s voice nearly cracked as he got to his feet and seemed ready to frisk Phil in a search for any sore or bloodied spots.

“Nothing. I’m fine.” He smiled and moved fully into the room, pressing what looked like a deep and demanding kiss to Clint’s lips. Nick didn’t have to wonder about what that kiss felt like for long because as soon as Phil was done with Clint, he turned his attention to Nick. “I had my meeting with Dr. Sarin today.”

“And?” Nick wasn’t really willing to let him go just yet.

“And, I’ve got light duty clearance.”

Clint bit his lip and nuzzled Phil’s neck for a moment. “Does that mean what I hope it means?”

“It means we’re spending this weekend in.” Nick grinned and kissed Phil again. “And we’re ordering dinner tonight.”

“The Italian place?”

“Anything you want, Cheese.”

“Oh, that sounds good.” He turned his head and kissed Clint again. “What if I want you two?”

“I think you’ll get that too. But food first.” Clint chuckled and wrapped his arms around Phil’s waist. “You scared the shit out of both of us, you know that right?”

“I didn’t mean to.” Phil had to good sense to blush and look at least a little contrite. “I thought I’d be home before you two got here.” He leaned back into Clint and pulled Nick down for another kiss. “I’m planning on making it up to you. But you’re both under strict orders to behave yourselves and take it slow.” He chuckled softly.

“Nayana needs a hobby.” Nick huffed out a laugh. “Order dinner.” He kissed the tip of Phil’s nose and pulled back. “I’m going to go get out of my gear. Get me something meaty.”

He heard a half aborted smart ass comment as he moved toward their bedroom. Obviously Phil had stopped Clint with a kiss. Clint followed him into the room, discarding his gear as he went. They switched off, despite Clint’s suggestion that the shower was big enough for all three of them, and by the time they were cleaned up and dressed again, the food had arrived.

If Clint’s fingers lingered on Phil’s when he passed one of the containers, or Nick’s bare foot pressed gently against Phil’s ankle under the table, well Phil wasn’t terribly surprised by it. If he was honest about it, the little intimacies that always led up to nights spent in bed together were part of what he’d missed the most. 

The teasing was getting unbearable by the time Phil put the dishes in the sink. Nick’s hands landed on his hips and he couldn’t help himself. He leaned back, letting his head rest on his shoulder and grinding back against him. “You two are awful.”

“And you love us for it.” Nick’s lips pressed to his neck. “Go to bed, Phil. Dishes will be there in the morning.”

“Mm. Twist my rubber arm.”

“Don’t make me.” Nick nuzzled and playfully smacked his ass. “Get going.”

If he was honest about it, he didn’t need the extra motivation. He was half way out of his clothes before he crossed the threshold. Clint was already sitting on the end of the bed, shirt off, jeans undone, looking positively pornographic. Phil moved quickly across the room, closing the distance between them and kissing his lips, getting a surprised groan as a reward. “Missed you.” Clint gasped out as Phil ran his hands over his shoulders.

“Missed you too.” Phil murmured against his lips, not wanting to fully break the kiss. “Both of you.” He felt the heat of Nick’s body behind him a moment later. 

“We should do something about that then.” Nick chuckled softly, one hand running up Phil’s back over his undershirt. His fingers skirted the scar he knew was there for a moment. Phil hissed softly, still getting used to the strange mix of numb and over sensitive this particular patch of skin has decided on. Clint’s hand came up, mirroring Nick’s on the matching scar on his chest. “Phil…”

“It’s okay… Just…” He tried to find the right way to say he wasn’t really comfortable with it yet. He hadn’t really taken the time to get used to the new bumps on the familiar road. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them with it. That was never the case. He didn’t really know yet how he felt about the scars and what they meant. 

Nick’s lips pressed to the back of his neck and slowly kissed a path down until the reached the top of the scar. “It’s still you.” He murmured into Phil’s skin.

Clint’s hand slid between the fabric of his undershirt and his skin as his eyes locked on Phil’s. “It means you’re still here. With us.”

He nodded slowly, feeling a little off balance and a little breathless at the affection and openness they were showing him. This wasn’t new. This was an old dance they played out so many times. Every time one of them did something stupid or someone else did something stupid that resulted in another mark on any of their bodies. This was part of the routine. He leaned back into Nick’s kisses as his hands gripped the hem of the shirt and pulled it up over his head. 

Clint’s lips pressed a kiss to the scar just as Nick had done on the back. “You’re here with us. Right where you should be.” He said softly as his lips moved over to suck gently on Phil’s nipple. He groaned, his head falling back and his weight resting on Nick. He chased back the little voice that said they were wrong. He wasn’t supposed to be here. It wasn’t really true. The things that were done to get him there didn’t really matter in that moment because Clint was right. He was where he belonged.

That was enough to have him drag Clint up for another deep and dirty kiss. Clint gained his feet, spinning the three of them around until Phil found himself kneeling on the end of the bed with Nick’s arms around him and Clint kissing him with as much passion as he ever had before. 

Phil only broke the kiss when Nick’s hand slipped down the small of his back, fingers teasing him lightly before dipping lower again. He managed to untangle himself from them long enough to get him and them out of the rest of their clothes. He smiled at Nick over his shoulder, grinding back against him. “Well?”

Nick chuckled and Clint shook his head. “I forgot how damn pushy you are.”

“You love it.”

“Yes I do.” Nick kissed his lips again as Clint’s lips moved down his throat. He could sense the theme of the evening already and he was having a hard time arguing against it, even to himself. He’d missed them and this so much and who would turn down the chance to be the center of all that single minded attention? 

Clint’s attention came back to his nipple and Phil shivered as his tongue flicked over it over and over again. The shiver shifted slowly into a moan as one slick finger teased him and so slowly worked just inside him. Nick’s lips pressed to his scar again as he worked that finger deeper. “Love you so much.” He spoke softly against his skin as his finger twisted deeper. “Missed you so much.”

He gasped and arched back into the touches. “Planning on showing me how much tonight?”

Clint grinned up at him before sucking hard on his other nipple. “Damn right we are.” He flicked his tongue over the hardened nub and Phil shivered again.

Nick nipped at his earlobe and Phil could feel him smile. “You want us both tonight?” Phil swallowed hard, nodding almost frantically. “One right after the other?” He moaned, not holding back at all as he rolled his hips back onto Nick’s finger. If he actually had to talk about it—which thankfully he didn’t—there was not much that got him hard quite like the thought of doing just that very thing. Of being wrung out and full and then being fucked all over again. He didn’t have to say it; they knew and Nick would no doubt say it for him.

He groaned and tried to catch his breath as Nick added another finger and Clint got down on his knees in front of them. “I think that was a yes.” Clint smirked up at him before pressing an almost chaste kiss to the head of his cock.

“Yes, that was a yes.” He gasped the words out, pressing back harder against Nick’s fingers. He cried out as Clint took the head of his cock into his mouth and worked his tongue over the tip. “Jesus Christ, if you keep this up, I won’t last that long.”

“Can’t have that.” Nick chuckled against his throat. “But it’s been awhile…”

“Not that long.” He trembled as Clint swallowed around him and Nick nudged another finger into him. “Oh my God, just fuck me!”

Clint chuckled around him and he felt his knees shake. Nick smiled, his free hand coming around to cup Clint’s cheek. “Can’t say no to him either, can you?”

Clint pulled back, sucking hard on the head of Phil’s cock again and smiling. “Not a chance.”

Phil huffed softly, fucking himself back onto Nick’s fingers again. “Don’t make me beg…” He groaned as Nick twisted his wrist. “Not tonight.”

“Okay.” Nick kissed his throat and slowly pulled his fingers free. Clint swallowed him down again, sucking and licking every sensitive spot he knew. Nick’s voice filled his ears a moment before the blunt tip of his cock pressed against Phil. “Love you like this. Love feeling you lose it for me.” Phil groaned and arched, not sure if he was moving into Clint’s mouth or back onto Nick’s cock as he pressed forward. “Breathe, Cheese… relax for me.”

A string of curses and pleas left him as Nick worked deeper and Clint doubled his efforts. “Not… oh my God...” He felt his body shaking with the effort of holding back. He didn’t want to come yet. He wanted this to keep going for as long as possible. He watched, dazed as Nick’s hand came around his hip, fingers carding through Clint’s hair. A simple sign to let up a touch. Clint pulled back, pressing another soft kiss to the head of his cock before kissing a path down his shaft. It was easier to hold on that way, without that warm, wet pressure around him. He moaned, focusing on Nick’s slow, easy rhythm, meeting every forward motion. “Faster…”

“No.” Nick nipped at this neck. “I told you I missed you. I’m not going to rush through this.” Phil turned his head to say something to that but Nick caught his lips in a deep kiss. “Let us take our time with you.”

“That might just…” His words trailed off when he realized what he’d thought to say. Now was not the time, to joke about dying from anything. “That might just be too much for me.”

“I doubt it.” Clint smiled up at him. “I’ll take it easy on you. I promise.”

“When have I ever wanted that?” Phil gasped out a laugh as Nick’s rhythm sped. He didn’t get an answer and he lost himself in the feel of Clint’s kisses and Nick filling him. He felt Nick’s grip on his hip tighten as his pace sped again. “Come on, Nick… come for me…” He moaned and pressed back into him harder and faster, feeling his own orgasm growing nearer and nearer.

Nick caught his lips in a rougher, fiery kiss, biting at his bottom lip as they moaned into it and his rhythm faltered. Clint chose that moment to suck the head of his cock into his mouth again and that was it. Phil arched up, gasping and crying out as his body pulled tight and he dragged Nick over the edge with him.

He couldn’t quite recall how he ended up lying down but he hummed happily into the kiss Clint pressed to his lips as Nick slid out of him. “Ready for me?”

Phil nodded, moaning and shivering and so over-sensitive as Clint slowly filled him. “Always.”

~*~*~*~

“I’ve got it!” Tony’s finger jabbed at the display and Natasha squinted at the screen. “I didn’t think they were still in operation…”

“HYDRA…” Natasha frowned. “Officially they aren’t. Unofficially…”

“Got it. Big secret pain in the ass. Clear as a bell.” Tony nodded and pointed again. “Well for a secret organization, they left a lot of clues to this being one of their bases.”

“No doubt most people assume it’s abandoned.”

“With the kind of energy all those servers would draw?” Tony frowned. “People are idiots.”

“I will not argue against that point.” Natasha sighed and rubbed her eyes. She’d spent days with Stark, trying to sort through the information SHIELD was feeding him. Trying to track down the mole that had quite literally been under their collective nose for far too long. At least a few years from the records they’d gone through already. Whoever it was was messaging the same base and that base was clearly up to no good at all.

It was vaguely familiar. Rumors mostly from before she’d joined SHIELD. She’d never really believed the official line from every major government that HYDRA was no longer a threat. One did not simply vanish after nearly taking over the world. The logistics of that were ridiculous. And once she’d joined SHIELD she’d seen proof of the truth. They were quieter than most. The Ten Rings were rather good at drawing attention to themselves and claiming victories that weren’t theirs and she had no doubt HYDRA used that to their advantage.

That and the mole they’d been in contact with for years at SHIELD.

That felt like a personal affront to her. SHIELD was her home. Her family. Her more pragmatic side told her that was a ridiculous way to look at an organization but she’d found a home there. And she wasn’t about to let someone tear it apart. Again.

Loki had been bad enough.

“What we need now is a name.” She said softly. When Stark had decided that moving to SHIELD HQ for this project was a good idea, she hadn’t argued. She’d been closer to her own bed, she thought. She hadn’t seen it in far too long though.

“Patience my darling assassin. Patience.” He was rooting through things faster than her eyes could track, which said something about her need to rest. She’d managed with less but given the chance… “There! Ha!” Stark poked at the screen again.

“They’re online right now?”

“Yes. Main command unit…” Tony shook his head. “Balls of steel, clearly.”

He didn’t get past that before she was on her feet and on the move. She tapped the comm. in her ear. “Director, are you busy?”

“In a meeting Romanov.”

“Would you and Hill join me in the command center, sir? I think you’d like to see this.”

“Oh?’

“Stark tracked your mole. They’re online right now.”

“On my way. Hill and Coulson are on site.”

“Understood.” She tapped the comm. again. “Clint? Want to have some fun?”

“Always. What’s up?”

“We’ve got a mole to hunt.”

“Good times. Where at?”

“Main Command Center. Fury’s on his way.”

“Right behind you, Nat.”

She moved quickly, meeting the director at the door. Stark was right behind her, having run to catch up. “Name?”

“Farber, Cynthia. 29, level 5. She’s a Virgo if—“

“Shut up, Stark.” Fury entered the room with his usual presence. “Agent Farber.”

Natasha would give the woman this much. She didn’t hesitate. She turned, saw the Director and the look that he no doubt was wearing and she moved. She was over the comm. unit and nearly to the door when Fury got a hand on her.

None of them saw her reach for the gun until it was too late.

Time seemed to slow as she watched the muzzle press to Fury’s chest. As she watched Director Fury crumple. Instinct told her to go after the target. To make sure she didn’t get out of the base. She tapped the comm. again and she knew she’d put out the call to stop Agent Farber but any words that came out were lost to her memory.

What she would remember for the rest of her life was the look on Agent Coulson’s face as he ran forward and Clint’s face as he stood in the doorway watching blood soak through Fury’s dress shirt.

~*~*~*~*~

_It can take as little as eight minutes bleed out._

He tried to push the thought aside as he bolted across the command center. He caught a glimpse of Clint running after Agent Farber. That was right. He did better on his feet. He’d catch her. And Natasha would be with him. And God, he wanted to be there with them.

Phil had another job to do at that moment though. He didn’t know how he’d managed to get across the room that quickly but he caught Nick in his arms and eased his way down onto the floor. He heard Maria on the comm. calling for a medic. They all had enough experience to know this was bad. He was trying his best to put how bad out of his mind. He needed to focus on Nick. On keeping him there until the medics showed up. That was mission one.

“The one day you don’t wear the armor…” He tried to laugh as he put pressure on Nick’s chest. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“That Senator Stern wasn’t going to shoot me…” Nick tried to laugh back but failed. He only managed a wet cough that sent a trickle of blood out of the corner of his mouth and set off every warning bell in Phil’s head. “Cheese…”

“No. Eyes up. Stay. Awake.” Phil pressed harder, looking around for anything that might help stop the steady flow of blood from the hole in Nick’s chest. “Stay with me.”

“Right…” Nick blinked far too slowly. “Don’t know—“

“What’d you tell me?” Phil ripped his tie off from around his neck and pressed it against the wound. Where the fuck were the medics Maria was yelling for? “Not an option. Remember?”

“Mm. Yeah…” Nick barely managed to pry his eye open again. “Clint…”

“He’s got it. He’ll handle it. Stay. Awake.” He kept saying the words as if he could will Nick to listen to him. Even as the medics finally showed up and pulled him back. Maria held him there, keeping him out of the way and not flinching at the blood on his hands. There was so much of it. It wasn’t the first time he’d dealt with something like this but this blood… this was different. The words felt different. Things like sucking wound, lung damage and blood loss rattled around in his head in brand new painful, horrible ways.

And that’s when it hit him. Suddenly the feeling of wanting to do anything— _anything_ —to stop this from happening flooded his senses. Even as Natasha’s voice filled his ear and said that they’d caught Farber and she was in custody. Even listening to her tell him that Clint was on the way to medical. Even as Maria pushed him toward the door after the medics.

It all made sense. There was a hollow ache at the feel of so much of Nick’s blood on his hands. The solid, piercing fear that they wouldn’t be able to fix this. That somehow they should have seen it coming. That they should have figured Farber out sooner. That there were a thousand things he should have seen and done and prevented so that this did not have to happen. And if he had to, Phil would move heaven and hell to make sure they didn’t lose him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I thought about hanging onto this but I just couldn't do it. So here's the next chapter hot on the heels of the last one.
> 
> Thanks as always to my quick and amazing beta, ladydeathfaerie.

She wasn’t exactly hiding her trail. Natasha thought that would have been a waste of energy anyway so the girl clearly wasn’t a complete idiot. After one shoots the head of a major espionage agency in the middle of said agency’s HQ, hiding wasn’t really an option.

And in the case of SHIELD, she had the best hope if it was the right team that found her. Or the right agent. Natasha wasn’t sure that she and her partner were the right agents in this case. In fact she was sure they were the last people that should have this woman cornered. “Stand down. Hawkeye.” She kept her voice as level as she could. “Clint…”

“No.” The ice in his voice was and was not surprising. “I should kill you right now.” He gritted the words out through his teeth and pulled the bowstring back just a little further.

“Kill me or not. I have completed my mission.” The girl had the audacity to laugh and Natasha found it hard to hold onto her orders to take her in alive. “Cut off one head, two more shall take its place.”

“And yet, still not a brain among you.” Natasha saw her tongue move and moved faster, hitting her in the back of the neck and knocking the suicide pill from her mouth. She shook her head. “Really, that’s the same trick you’ve all played since the Second World War. And the same line. One would think that since it hasn’t worked in your favor yet, you might adopt a new strategy.”

“It doesn’t matter. I won’t tell you anything.”

“Nat…” Clint pulled the bow string back. At that range, any arrow would likely go straight through her head and into the next hanger bay. “If she’s not going to talk, she’s useless. She killed Nick…”

“You don’t know that.”

“She fucking tried hard enough.” His voice finally rose, his anger and want for revenge on his face.

“She will be taken alive.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Go to medical, Clint. They need you.”

He looked down at Farber again. His jaw tightened and she wasn’t sure for a moment if he’d stand down or not. She wasn’t sure what she wanted him to do either. But she did know that every life he’d ever taken, even when they deserved it, had eaten at him. She didn’t want to see him add another name to that list. There were enough as it was, even if he hadn’t done the deed himself. She knew he’d added the names of every agent that died on the Helicarrier to that list.

This one wasn’t worth it. “Clint.” He didn’t say another word. He lowered the bow, slipping the arrow back into the quiver and turned, leaving her with the mole. “Now, what shall I do with you?”

“You have your orders.” Farber made the word orders sound filthy.

“I do. You are to be taken in alive.” Natasha smiled her sweetest smile. “And you will be. I think a few of my friends will want to speak to you first. They’ve earned that.”

“I am not afraid of you.”

“It’s not me you need to worry about, little one.” She roughly turned the woman around, zip-tying her hands behind her back perhaps just a little tighter than was necessary. She hauled the other woman to her feet and pushed her toward the open door. “It’s the rest of SHIELD I would be concerned with.”

“I am not afraid.”

Natasha smiled and pushed her a little further down the hallway. “We take care of our own, little one.” A soft chuckle left her. “If you’re not afraid, you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

~*~*~*~*~

He hated waiting. Clint had never been good at it. The only times he hadn’t been a jittery mess had been when he was too damn tired or hurt to pace. This time… well, this time he wasn’t tired. He wasn’t hurt. And he hadn’t had a chance to work off the adrenaline from Farber’s little run through the base.

To say he was feeling antsy was putting it mildly.

“Sit down for a little while, okay?” Phil’s voice was calm as ever. You’d really have to be looking to see the way his hands were still shaking. “I don’t want to leave you here like this.”

“Where are you going?” It came out harsher than he meant it too and Phil looked up at him. He still had blood on his hands. Nick’s blood. The idea of it just made him want to go down to the detention level and take out his frustration on their newest inmate. But that wouldn’t help anyone. “Right. Sorry…” He leaned in, kissing Phil’s lips softly. A show of comfort more than anything else. “Go clean up. I’ll be okay.”

“You sure? I can—“

“Phil, it’s okay. The longer you—“ He sighed and shook his head. “Go clean up. It’ll do us both some good.”

“Clint…”

“Really. I’m old hand at this now.” The words were out before he’d really thought about what he was saying and he caught the edge of Phil’s flinch. “This isn’t like that time… he’s gonna be fine.”

“I know.” But it didn’t sound like he did. And it was no doubt way too hard to think positive with Nick’s blood still covering his hands. “Okay. I won’t be long… just a quick—“

“Go.” Clint kissed him again, pulling him to his feet. “I’m good. Maybe bring some dinner back? Just in case?”

“You got it.” Phil kissed him back, lengthening it but not really deepening it before he left the room. 

It didn’t seem fair. They’d only just gotten Phil back and then… Clint started pacing again. They had to catch a break at some point. There had to be some kind of balance to the universe. Three people couldn’t have earned this much shit being dropped on them. Loki, the Helicarrier, death, blood… this Farber chick. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Clint lashed out. Not much of an explosion, really. Just an over turned coffee table that he quickly set to rights again. But he collapsed back as if he’d smacked his head on a metal bar all over again. It was all blurring together in his mind but one thing was certain to him. This had all started with Loki. Everything that went wrong was tied to that.

He’d spent too much time trying to convince himself that it wasn’t his fault. That Loki had controlled him. That the attack and deaths on the helicarrier were ultimately Loki’s doing, not his. He’d gotten pretty good at it too but that hadn’t stopped him from making sure he knew every name of every lost agent that day. For a while, he’d used the list like a litany; a centering point when he got low. He’d make it up to them. He’d do the good they wouldn’t get to. That’s what he told himself as he ran the list again.

He only got about a quarter of the way through when it hit him.

He was on his feet again and racing toward Hill’s office, banging on the door frantically. “Maria! Open the door!”

She looked frazzled, or as frazzled as she ever got. “Barton? Jesus, Clint go back to medical. You should be—“ She stopped midsentence. “What happened?”

“He’s still in surgery. But I need to look at the files from the Helicarrier attack. The original ones. It’s important.”

“What? Why?’

“Just…” He tried to sort out why without tipping his hand. He was sure. As sure as he could be but he wanted solid proof in front of him. “I know Nick kept the original lists. I know he did. He wouldn’t just toss at that away. I need to see them.”

She looked at him and he could only imagine what she saw. He must have looked crazed at the very least, babbling about lists of casualties that didn’t line up with time as it was now. “Okay.” She waved him in before moving toward the far wall. The thumb scan, pin pad and retinal scan were active the moment she moved the painting. Sure it was cliché, she’d said once, but nobody was going to get past the measures in place. She removed the files in question and handed them to him. “Read them here. They don’t leave this room.”

“Understood.” He didn’t need to take them anywhere anyway. He just needed one name. And he found it quickly. “Jesus fucking Christ…” he muttered under his breath, stopping his finger under the name in question.

Hill leaned in, following his line of sight. He didn’t see it but he could almost feel her eyes widen. “That’s not—“

“Anything’s possible. I think we’ve proved that a few times this year alone.” He slammed the file down. “Cynthia Farber died on the Helicarrier.”

“Except she didn’t because…” Maria sat down behind her desk, her head falling into her hands. “Because the medics didn’t have to work on Coulson so they had more time to deal with everyone else.”

“If I believed in a higher power…”

“Or karma. Jesus…”

“Yeah. So what do we do about it?”

“Nothing.” Hill took a deep breath and put her mask back into place. “There’s nothing we can do about it. She’s alive now because of what we did. We saved a life.”

“That life tried to take one of ours.”

“Irony sucks, Barton. But there’s nothing we can do about it. We aren’t risking another time travel mission just to make sure this woman dies like she should have if we hadn’t been fucking around with the space time continuum to begin with!” 

He took his own deep breath and nodded. They’d made the bed they were in. There was nothing else to do about it. God only knew what trying to fix this would invite in on them anyway. He handed her the file. “String her up by her fucking eyelids then.”

“I will. And this might just help.”

“I don’t think she’s going to feel guilty about killing the man that is responsible for her being alive.”

“He’s not dead, Clint.”

“Sorry… it’s—“

“I know. Go back to medical. Get a bite to eat. This…” She held up the file. “This isn’t important. Being there with Phil when Nick wakes up. That is.”

“Right.” He nodded, choking back the bile that had threatened to rise up a moment earlier.

“Dismissed, Barton.”

He turned and walked toward the door before he realized he was moving. No more time travel. Ever. That was what he told himself the whole way back to medical. No. More. Fucking. Time travel.

~*~*~*~

“Karma is a funny thing, isn’t it?” Maria smiled as she stepped toward the cell that held their mole. “The idea that there’s some kind of universe right and wrong balancing act.” She flipped through the file in her hand. “Do you believe that, Cynthia?”

“No.”

“No, I guess if there was, that wouldn’t work out too well for you in the long run. Being a traitor and a half assed try hard murderer. Didn’t get it right, by the way.” Maria took a few more steps forward, revealing to the woman in the cell that she was not alone. Natasha Romanov stayed behind her CO but the smile on her face was unnerving at least.

She stepped up a moment later. “Do you like stories, little one?”

“No.”

“I do.” She smiled a little wider. “Once upon a time there were three men…”

“Is this really necessary?”

“It’s rude to interrupt, Cynthia.” Maria smiled and leaned against the far wall. “Listen and maybe you’ll learn something. That was your job, wasn’t it?”

“I won’t tell you anything.”

“Good, then we’ve got plenty of time for Agent Romanov’s story.”

“These three men had something very special. They would move the world to save each other.”

“What does this have to do with anything?”

Natasha smirked. “They would move time and space to keep each other safe and when one of them was killed, they did just that.”

“That’s a lovely fairy tale…”

“Do you believe in life debts, Cynthia?” Maria raised her voice again. “If someone pulls you out of a burning building, would you feel like you owed them something?”

“I suppose…”

“You owe Director Fury your life.”

“I doubt that.” The woman crossed her arms and sat back on her cot.

Maria smiled again, stepping forward and slipping the pages from the file she’d been holding through the slot that usually delivered a food tray. “That is the casualty report from the Helicarrier attack before the Battle of New York.”

“Yes, your medical staff was kind enough to save my life.”

“Not originally.” Natasha laughed softly. “Originally they were working on someone far more important that a traitorous comms officer. But since he was pulled out of that situation, the medics had time to save your life.”

“Time travel isn’t possible.” She didn’t look like she fully believed it as she looked through the reports.

“We’re SHIELD. Anything is possible.” Maria smiled again. “And if we can do that, just imagine what we can cook up for someone who tried to assassinate the head of this organization.”

“You can’t kill me.”

“We wouldn’t dream of it.” Natasha grinning, twirling a knife between her fingers. “But we could go back, erase some files, and make sure no one ever knows you existed. Imagine the freedom that could grant, Deputy Director.”

Maria nodded calmly. “It would make everything so much easier. And Agents Barton and Coulson would be able to deal with her as they saw fit. Assuming she remained alive.”

“I have no doubt they’ll look forward to it.”

“I don’t know enough to be worth all that.”

“No, you don’t. But you attempted to assassinate a powerful man. Either you deal with us, or you deal with your HYDRA bosses when this goes public.” Maria leaned forward a little. “Who do you think would be more merciful?”

“They’ll simply kill me.”

“Not if they think we have their secrets from your mouth.” Natasha spun the knife idly. “I hear they don’t take kindly to that kind of behavior.”

“I will not talk.” She sat straight up, squared her shoulders. “Hail HYDRA!”

Maria sighed and stepped forward, opening the cell door and waving Natasha in. “I was hoping story time would work, but if you want to do this the hard way… we can do that too.”

She admirably held onto the calm until Natasha got within reach. “Okay!” She threw her hands up. “Okay…”

Maria crossed her arms. “Start telling me a story, Cynthia. And I had better find it interesting.”

~*~*~*~*~

Clint had fallen asleep an hour or so earlier. Phil was on his fourth cup of bad vending machine coffee. He didn’t want to fall asleep. He wanted to be there, eyes open and awake when Nick woke up. When. Not if. He wasn’t going to entertain the idea of ‘if’ no matter what kind of numbers Nayana threw at him.

They’d gotten him in fast. The surgery had gone well. He’d wake up. Phil didn’t need percentages and stats to tell him that. He wondered vaguely how things were going on the detention level. Wondered if he was too compromised to have done the work himself. That was a ridiculous question, obviously and he knew it. Nonetheless, he wanted to be down there with Natasha and Maria dealing with the woman who tried to murder his partner. Tried to. Failed. He took a deep breath and set the mostly empty paper cup on the bedside table.

They needed a break. All of them. With everything that had happened, they needed some time when none of them were in any kind of danger. For the first time in his career with SHIELD, he seriously thought about how much vacation time they’d all banked and how it might just be time to cash some of it in.

It would be easier said than done but Nick wouldn’t fight him on it if he was still on med leave. 

Maybe just once. Just a few weeks. A little time in a cottage or on a beach. Just some time. That was all he wanted. A little time with the two men that he loved. They’d earned that. And as soon as Nick was on his feet again, Phil was going to demand that they take it.

He always told himself that though, when something bad happened. And something bad was always happening so they never took the time.

This time though… 

He watched Nick’s face. Listened to the slow hiss of the ventilator and the beeping of the monitors he was hooked up to. All of it saying that so far, he was okay. He was still there. He’d listened to Phil and he’d held on.

The soft groan startled him and it took a second to realize it was Clint waking up, not Nick. Clint blinked at him in the low light and sighed heavily. “Nothing?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Get some sleep. I’ll take the next watch.”

“No it’s—“

“Phil for fuck’s sake. I know. I know you don’t want him to wake up alone. And he won’t. I’m here. It’s okay to take an hour and get some rest.” Clint rubbed at his eyes as if it would prove his point.

“I don’t think I can. Too much coffee.”

Clint shook his head. “The two of you are so alike sometimes…”

“Yeah. Stubborn as hell. I know.”

“It’ll work in his favor, you know. Just like it did with you.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so.” Clint reached across the bed, taking Phil’s hand. “He’s going to be fine. We’ll all be fine.”

“I think we need a vacation.”

“Where do you want to not go this time?”

“Nowhere fancy.” Phil shrugged. “Maybe just… rent a place somewhere on a beach. Nick can cook seafood. You can shoot at crabs…”

“Sounds nice.” Clint smiled warmly. “What will you do?”

He thought about it for a minute. He actually took the time to picture it all. Sitting on a small deck, watching Clint with his bow. Sitting in a warm, bright kitchen as Nick tried his hand at seafood chowder and no doubt succeeded brilliantly. Phil smiled and shook his head. “All I want is you two. After that, it’s all a bonus.”

“You’ve got us.”

“Yeah.”

“Phil.” Clint squeezed his hand. “He’ll wake up.”

“Yeah.” He nodded and tried to sound optimistic. He was pretty sure he was failing miserably. “Yeah, I know.”


	12. Chapter 12

Everything hurt. Everything. There wasn’t a part of him that didn’t ache or pull or sting. Everything was intense and every regulated breath burned. He fought down the sense of panic. He’d been through this enough to know the signs even before he was fully awake. The hiss of the ventilator. The beep of the monitors. The stinging sharp smell of disinfectant.

Somebody probably shot him.

He would have sighed if it wasn’t for the breathing tube. His heart rate picked up as he did his level best to let the machine do the work and not to freak out or fight it. He hated this part. He hated not being able to communicate and having to wait for somebody to figure out that he was awake. But at least it gave him time to piece things together.

_Stay. Awake._

Phil… he’d been there. There must have been some kind of justice to that. If there was anyone he wasn’t going to be contrary with and slip away on, it was Phil. Or Clint. Nick’s hand twitched, reaching out as much as he could for one of them or both of them. There wasn’t a warm spot nearby on either side. How long had he been out?

He forced his eye open as the door opened. “Jesus…” Phil barely made it all the way in before he was out again, yelling for the nurses.

Clint came in in his stead, grabbing Nick’s hand. “We leave you alone for five minutes and you pick then to wake up.” He shook his head and Nick couldn’t quite stop from trying to smile. “You’re a contrary bastard, you know that?”

Clint didn’t let go as the nursing staff came in with Phil on their tail. He closed his eye again and let them do what they were going to do. He even obliged the good doctor and did what she told him to do as they took out the breathing tube. Okay, he’d been wrong. He hated that more than trying to let the damn thing work. 

“If I see you in here next, I’m quitting.” She quipped at Clint across the bed and shook her head. “You’re a lucky man, Nicholas.”

“How long?” He coughed roughly and winced. That probably told them more than anything else. He didn’t like showing pain. At all. 

“Two days. Your people skills served you well again.” 

“Is that supposed to be funny?” He got it out before Phil slipped a straw between his lips and made him drink a little water.

“You were shot between your third and forth left rib. The bullet collapsed your lung and you nearly bled out despite receiving nearly immediate care. Is that better?” Her eyebrow crept up. “The technology we developed for Phil likely saved your life. I hope you appreciate the historic irony of that.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He settled back down onto his pillow. He heard Clint thanking Nayana on her way out as Phil took hold of his hand. “The mole…”

“We’ve got her. She’s spilling secrets at an alarming rate. We’re trying to corroborate everything but you know the kind of time that takes.” Phil pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Welcome back, Boss.”

Clint slipped in on his other side, mirroring Phil but having to be much more careful of IV tubes. “We have got to stop doing this, guys.” He laughed softly.

“Couldn’t agree more.” Nick sighed finally and Phil slipped the straw back into his mouth. A few more sips helped calm the scratchy ache in his throat. “How long am I going to be down for?”

“She’s saying a couple weeks at least.”

“No.”

“Nick.” Phil leveled him with a look that would stop most level 6 agents in their tracks. Nick was not a level 6 agent though. “Come on. I behaved myself for you. Time to repay the favor.”

“Light duty in two weeks.”

“You aren’t a doctor. You don’t get to make that call.” Clint reminded him.

“Think the world can stop trying to end without me around?” He smiled up at them both. “Give it two weeks.”

“Maybe everybody should learn to deal with the world ending on their own for a little while.”

“Where are we not going this time?”

“That’s what I said.” Clint smirked.

“I’m serious. If we’ve ever earned some time…” Phil sighed. “I’m asking for a long weekend here when you’re on your feet again. That’s all. Maybe a week.”

Nick thought about it. Frankly the idea of not being in charge when something went horrifically wrong—and it would—was not one he liked. But he wasn’t going to be in charge anyway for awhile. He trusted Hill to take care of things. Maybe it wasn’t such a crazy idea, taking a vacation. “We’ll see.”

“That’s not a no.” Phil smiled.

“No, it’s not.”

“That’s close enough to a yes to be scary.” Clint smirked.

Nick tried to get a soft laugh out. “Keep it up, and you can stay here to watch the baby agents.”

‘That’s cruel.”

“Yes it is.” He let himself relax back into the mattress. “But he’s right. We’ve earned it. And we need the time.” He opened his eye again and watched the two of them exchange a look. “What?”

“You don’t need to know.” Phil said quickly.

“That’s bullshit. What don’t I need to know?”

“Phil…” Clint shrugged. “It’s not like we can change it…”

“What the hell is going on?”

“The mole… she… she died on the Helicarrier. Originally.”

“Oh.” Nick sucked on the inside of his bottom lip for a minute. That was a twist. Probably some kind of karmic payment idea. For a second he considered that maybe he was supposed to have given up his life for the privilege of fucking with the timeline but he dismissed it quickly. He didn’t really believe in fate or universe balances. There’d been too much weird shit in his life to bother with that kind of thing. Either way, if he couldn’t control it, there was no point in worrying over it. “That’s interesting.”

“That’s all you have to say about it?” Phil’s head tilted a little.

“Yeah. That’s all I have to say about it.” He shifted in bed, ignoring the pull of stitches on his chest and his back. “So where are we going for this long weekend?”

~*~*~*~*~

She saw the shadow approaching the cell. She didn’t say anything. What was there to say? It was either some HYDRA specter of death coming for her or some SHIELD agent wanting to gloat. Either way she wasn’t interested.

“Funny…” The voice was soft and familiar. “I didn’t think you were this stupid.”

“And I thought you all far stupider than you proved to be. I don’t see how that’s funny, Agent Coulson.” Cynthia crossed her arms and glared at the shadow until the man himself came into view.

“No, I suppose it wouldn’t be your kind of humor.” He stood in front of the door to her cell as if he were back on the command deck or in front of some pouty billionaire. “But trust me, from where I’m standing, it’s hilarious.”

“I did what so many have dreamed of.”

“What exactly do you think you did?”

She sat up, smiling widely. She remembered the vague story Romanov had plied her with. No doubt Coulson was one of the men connected to the director. “I killed Nick Fury.”

He smiled, or as close as she’d ever seen him get in her time at SHIELD. “Is that right?”

“Whatever happens now, whatever else I did; that is mine.”

He nodded, his expression didn’t change. “Director Fury is in medical, awake and recovering well according to his doctor.” Coulson stepped closer to the bars. “Did you really think that was how you'd go down in history? The woman that killed Nick Fury? You're just some nobody who ran away and got a lucky shot off. Another worthless HYDRA lackey who couldn’t get it done.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.” He leaned in, anything of the friendly, warm agent she’d observed disappearing. She’d heard rumors, stories of how he was an expert in interrogation. That he was SHIELD’s most decorated field agent. She hadn’t believed it. Not really. Not until his hand closed around one of the cell bars and she felt like the air had gotten too thick to breathe. “You missed.”

He turned on his heel without another word, walking away from the cell. As he turned the corner out of the detention level, Maria was waiting for him. “Feel better?”

“Yes, actually.” He let out a long sigh and the weight of everything that had happened started to lift. He chuckled softly as they continued together toward the elevator. “I know it’s unprofessional. It’s childish. But I think in this case at least one of us deserved a little gloating.”

“I’m not disagreeing.” She motioned him into the elevator. “I just thought it’d be Clint.”

“Really?” Phil smiled. “Natasha had money on Nick wheeling himself down here.”

“She’s not going to be happy.”

“I’ll make it up to her.” He sighed again, visibly relaxing. “Who did win the pot?”

“Sitwell, I think.”

“Ten bucks says he cheated.”

“Oh I know. Linda told him who to bet on.”

“Of course she did.” Phil shook his head. “At least tell him to take her out somewhere nice with the money.”

“I wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.” She stepped out of the elevator as the doors opened. “You going to medical?”

“Unless you need me somewhere else.”

“You’re still on light duty.”

“That’s not an actual answer.” He managed a small smirk and she almost laughed. It was the first sign she’d seen that things were finally settling back into something like normal.

Maria shook her head. “Go to medical, Coulson.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

~*~*~*~*~

“Dr. Sarin will have your ass in a sling if she catches you.” Maria’s voice filled the room just before Nick sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Nayana Sarin is a sadist.”

“That she is. She’s also fond of telling you it’s for your own good.” Maria shook her head; she’d had enough of her own experiences with the good doctor to know. “And she’s usually right.”

“I’m fine.” Nick shook his head. “You’re not rid of me yet.”

“Good.”

He looked up to see the honesty in that statement and nodded. “I will be leaving things in your capable hands for a while longer than originally planned.”

Her head tilted in the way it did when she didn’t like what she was hearing. “Is something wrong, sir?”

“No, things are coming along nicely, or so I’m told.” He sighed and sat back against his pillow. “I’m taking a vacation.”

“I’m sorry, could you say that again? It sounded like vacation…”

“You heard me the first time.”

“I heard you. I’m just having a little trouble believing it.”

“I’m on medical leave for a while yet anyway. I’m just tacking a week on for my own well being.”

“And that of Agents Coulson and Barton, I would imagine.”

“Already got the paperwork going, didn’t he?”

“Did you expect any less?”

“Of course not.” Nick chuckled. Nayana had agreed to send him home, finally and he was going to do his level best to behave himself. Granted, his best on that front wasn’t that good and he knew it but he’d give it a shot. “Remind Stern that he’s not getting out of that meeting with me just because I took a bullet.”

“Duly noted.” Maria nodded. If he caught an edge of a smile on her face at the thought of going head to head with that particular Senator, well… he let it slide. Everyone had to have a hobby. “Anything else I should be aware of?”

“No. I think you’ll be busy enough with the Farber mess. Legal on that already?”

“Walters is heading the team.” She nodded again. “They’ve got a lot to work with. It should be easy enough to keep out of the media. If she behaves.”

“Good. If she doesn’t, put it on every front page, every feed.”

“Yes, sir.” She hesitated briefly. “You know that might open you up as a viable target.”

“I’ve been a viable target longer than you’ve been alive, Maria. I can handle it. You know this shit happens every so often. We lock it down and move on.”

She frowned. “Right. Because we’re SHIELD.”

“Because if we don’t, the world falls apart.”

“I will keep that in mind, Sir.”

“I know you will.”

“This is sounding a lot like work for someone who’s supposed to be on leave.” The smile she’d suppressed earlier finally made an appearance and he chuckled lightly.

“You got me.”

“Enjoy your time off, Nick.”

‘Thank you, Maria. I think I will.”

~*~*~*~*~

“Mission?” Clint looked up and saw Natasha standing in the doorway.

“Do you ever knock like a normal person?”

“You know better than to ask.”

“I do. You’re right. That was silly of me.” He flicked the shirt in his hands before laying it down and folding it. “And no. No mission that I know of.”

“Well you can see why I’d assume.” Her hand waved around the room and he followed it, inspecting his handy work. He was willing to admit, things looked bad. Really bad. But he was only half way done filling his suitcase so he had time to fix it all up. “So what’s going on?”

“Are you telling me that the indomitable Black Widow is out of the loop?”

“Not funny.”

“Oh it’s hilarious.”

“Yes, yes. Ha. Ha. What’s going on?”

“You know you’re pushy when you’re curious.”

“Keep not answering and I’ll call Phil and tell him what you did to his room.” She pulled out her phone.

Clint grinned. “He knows. This is his plan. He knows I need to pack.”

“Plan? What plan?” Her jaw dropped and she slowly smiled. “He didn’t actually manage to pull this off, did he?”

“Your lack of faith is disturbing.” Clint smirked. “It makes sense. Nick’s still on leave but he’s doing good and Phil’s banked up enough vacation time to cover everybody for a year.”

“And you?”

“I’ve earned a break too.” He slipped another shirt into the suitcase and glanced around. Before the movement really registered, he felt her press a quick kiss to his cheek. “What was that for?”

“You have earned it. All of you.” She shook her head. “I just thought it might take more.”

“I think it’s taken enough.” Clint muttered darkly as he dug through another dresser. 

She nodded, acknowledging his point. “How long will you be gone?”

“A week.”

“A whole week?” She gasped dramatically before a laugh left her lips. “Well, I hope you enjoy yourselves. And I hope you take it easy. You need rest too.”

“I’m fine.”

“That’s always believable.”

“I am. Nobody shot me. Nobody stabbed me.”

“And you have them back.”

“There’s that.” He couldn’t quite hold back the grin. “I mean it though. I’m good. Better than I have been since…”

“I’m glad.” She patted his shoulder.

He couldn’t quite hold in the laugh. “Yeah, me too.”

~*~*~*~*~

Phil folded the paper and tucked it under his deck chair. The trial of one Cynthia Farber was in full swing and the media was eating up every tidbit SHIELD was throwing at them. He had no doubt that their legal team would win the case. He’d seen the pictures of Jennifer Walters no doubt preaching fire and brimstone to the judge about the horrors of HYDRA and the cost of their infiltration. He didn’t really want to focus on that side of things anyway. That was Maria’s party. No need to cross the streams.

Besides, he was on his vacation.

He lifted his gaze out toward the beach, watching as a figure emerged from the ocean, dripping wet and rolling his shoulder like it was bothering him. Phil sighed heavily. Swimming was good for rehab, sure but Nick was pushing it again. And really, he didn’t have a leg to stand on when it came to lecturing about that so there was very little he could do about it.

Nick smiled as he reached the deck and started to towel off. He leaned in and kissed Phil’s lips. He tasted like salt water and Phil pulled him closer for another taste. “You should take it easy out there.” He couldn’t quite help himself.

Nick chuckled and kissed him again. “Clint back yet?”

“Not yet. Any minute now, I’m sure. Unless he decided to buy food for the whole town.” Phil shook his head. “You did give him a list right?”

“Of course.” Nick slung his towel over his shoulder as he brushed the sand from his feet and headed into the cottage. “It wasn’t that long either. I don’t need that much to make lobster for the two of you.”

Phil followed him in, scooping up the paper and the mug of coffee he’d been enjoying earlier. “Maybe he’s going to help.”

“Maybe.” Nick smiled and Phil couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d seen him so relaxed. He reached out, his hand resting on the small puckered scar on his chest. Nick’s hand came up to cover his. “Still here, Cheese.”

“I know. Me too.” He smiled and wrapped his arms around Nick. 

He returned the hug, kissing Phil’s temple before letting out a low laugh. “Are you going to let me go up and get cleaned up?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“If you two fuck in the kitchen without me, I’m going to be very, very upset.” Clint’s voice echoed from the front door. 

“Busted.” Nick smirked and kissed him again before pulling back. “Took you long enough!” He shouted down the main hallway before climbing the stairs to the second floor.

“Hey, only the best for you two.” He smiled as he walked into the kitchen, piling the bags in his hands on the island. “You going to help?”

“Yeah. How much food did you buy?” Phil shook his head and pulled Clint in for a kiss.

He wrinkled his nose when they pulled away from each other. Nick had figured out early on that Clint did not enjoy sea water kisses. “Nick out swimming again?”

“Yup.”

“Surprise, surprise.” Clint started pulling things out of the bag and handing them to Phil. The lobsters, some orange juice, milk, cheese, vegetables all went into the fridge. A couple bottles of wine sat on the counter. And Phil’s eyebrow rose at the last bag.

“What?” Clint grinned, scooping it up and heading toward the stairs. “We’ve got a couple more days up here and we’re almost out of lube!”

“But the body paint?”

“You sent me for groceries.” He leaned over the railing. “And it’s edible.”

“You’re impossible.” Phil sighed and finished putting things away before going out on the deck again to enjoy the fresh air.

This had been the best idea he’d ever had. It had taken some time and no small amount of effort and possibly a little tiny bit of emotional blackmail, but they’d gotten their time and their holiday. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d had so much freedom to do what they wanted and just be together. In fact, he found himself getting used to it. He thought maybe he wasn’t the only one but no doubt, soon enough, Clint’s fingers would start itching for a target. Nick would start wanting to know what was going on in the world—and not just what the local news had to say about it—again. And he knew, soon enough, he’d miss the field and the adventure.

They weren’t cut out for this kind of life all the time. They all knew it. He rubbed idly at the scar on his chest and sighed. There would always be another megalomaniac bent on conquering the planet. Or another spy from an evil organization they hadn’t heard shit from in decades. Or another threat altogether that they hadn’t even considered yet. Well, maybe Nick had considered it… but even he couldn’t come up with everything that could happen.

Either way, they’d always have their places in the world. They’d all have the job. There would always be danger and injuries. But there would always be people there waiting for him to get better. To hold him up. To help him do the job. To hold him through the nightmares. And to share the moments where things were quiet and peaceful.

And when it came down to it, that was worth moving heaven and hell to hang onto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it. That's the story. Thank you to all of you for your patience and support through this. Chaptered fic is not something I do often and I was scared to death doing this so... I'm really glad that you enjoyed it! Special thanks to ladydeathfaerie for all her beta work and her help through those times when the words just would not come. You're the best bb!
> 
> I may do some one shots in this verse at some point... there are a few backstory things that make me smile that I want to do eventually. So, hopefully you'll enjoy those when they come up! 
> 
> Thank you everyone!


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